


The Age of Man is Ending

by Anonymouscosmos



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Forced Evolutionary Virus, Original Character(s), Post-Institute, justin ayo sucks, lots of super mutants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26196334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouscosmos/pseuds/Anonymouscosmos
Summary: Sole Survivor Keirsten had plans for the commonwealth after the fall of the Institute, but with a mysterious illness taking hold of her and a strangely coordinated super mutant attack underway, those plans are put on hold.This is an original tale post-Institute, set four months after Sole awakens from her cryo pod.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 21
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is canon to the world, but there will be original character(s) added.

"Are you feeling alright, Blue?"

Piper was looking at Keirsten, brows knit in concern. Keirsten was too busy focusing on the waves of nausea rolling through her to answer the inquiry.

"You're white as a sheet," Piper insisted, stepping close and pressing the backs of her cool fingers to Keirsten’s forehead.

"I don't feel too hot," Keirsten finally admitted. "Let's get out of here. _Please_. The smell is enough to fell a super mutant."

Piper rubbed her back in a comforting way for a moment before giving her some space. Keirsten rose to her full height, squaring her shoulders and willing herself not to wobble-leg out of the old boat house. They had stopped by to scavenge for crafting materials, and disposed of a few Blood Bugs. Then, all of a sudden and seemingly out of nowhere, the awful stink of mirelurks and the pile of bodies left to rot by raiders overwhelmed her and she nearly lost her shit.

Keirsten had just about had enough of the wasteland. Stress is not good for one's health, and since waking up in that cryo pod...her life had been nothing but stress. She was grieving for her dead husband, had been forced to blow up her now-60 year old son along with his infernal Institute, had been shot by Raiders, tossed about by super mutants, bitten by a feral ghoul, and chased by a very angry yao guai while trying to pull her trousers back up after stopping to pee alongside the road. Sometimes you just had to cut and run, and her handgun was still dangling from a branch somewhere along that road.

She hadn't slept in four months. Her stomach hurt all the time from the... Adjustment... Commonwealth food required. She had a permanent headache from the lack of quality sleep. Keirsten guessed she was as prepared as anyone could be. When she went into that cryo pod, she was the parent of a one year old. Not like she was sleeping much before the bombs fell, anyway.

As they walked back out into the sunlight, Keirsten breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t feeling a hundred percent still, but the air helped. Piper's mouth was turned down in a frown.

"You should get checked out. Maybe go see Curie and get a full workup done. You haven't seemed yourself at all the last few days. I think you've got a bug, Blue. Hopefully you're not contagious."

Keirsten rolled her eyes. "The flu doesn't even exist anymore."

"Maybe you're turning into a ghoul." It was meant to be a joke, but then they stared at each other in horror at the thought. Piper laughed weakly and Keirsten dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

"I'll see Curie eventually when I stop by the Castle again. She's got her new medical center up and running, so she spends most of her time there now. I'm fine. Honestly. It's probably just mild radiation poisoning or something. I'll use some Rad Away. Alright?"

Piper grumbled at the answer, but didn't argue with her further.

Piper had come along with Keirsten to document ground zero of the now-destroyed Institute. There was far too much radiation to get as close as she would have liked, but she settled for the view from atop the Mass Fusion building. The detonator still sat where the team had left it that night. Piper ran her fingers over it lightly, mouth agape.

"Wow. This is the button that delivered us from evil, huh?"

Keirsten waggled her fingers at her. "Behold the destroyers of evil."

Keirsten couldn't help but feel sorrow, looking at the scene before them now. Whatever her son had been, in the end... Aka a cancer-ridden megalomaniac... He had been her son. _Their_ son. Hers and Nate's. Leaving him lying in that medical bed had felt like murder, even if he was already dying. Nobody had blamed her for the decision, but she had blamed herself plenty.

She dropped Piper back off at Diamond City. Piper promised her a copy of the new edition, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and skipped off. Actually _skipped_. Some people had so much energy. Keirsten felt like the waking dead. She considered the long journey back to Sanctuary, and decided the Castle was closer. Fine. She guessed she would be seeing Curie after all. Her stomach was still twisted up in knots, and she was so exhausted she wasn't sure she was much use to anyone at this point; let alone able to protect herself properly. She wasn't going to tell Piper that. Piper would of course accompany her to The Castle and insist on watching over her. It was the kind of friend she was. Keirsten did not want to impose, and in all honesty, she wanted the time to reflect. It had only been a few weeks since the Institute went up in a personal mushroom cloud. The wound was fresh on her heart.

She stopped and had a bowl of ramen before she headed out. Surprisingly, the broth and the saltiness of it helped settle her stomach again. Now she just needed to drag herself back to the Castle and get some proper rest.

She thought about the state of things on her journey back to the Castle. With the Institute vanquished, the Brotherhood now spent a lot of time chasing down super mutants and raiders. That had been a nice benefit of their presence, even if they were a little salty with her for storming the enemy’s gates with the Minutemen instead of them. When it came down to it, Keirsten just didn’t trust them. Especially not after Maxson ordered her to kill Danse. She had somehow managed to talk him out of that plan, but it meant that Danse was exiled...a fact she knew tore him up inside. But, he was slowly adjusting to his new life. She’d convinced him to move to Sanctuary. The Brotherhood never ventured out there anyway. The settlement was secure and safe, and they were more interested in chasing big green guys down.

Danse. Something unexpected had blossomed there, and neither of them were quite sure what it meant yet. Her heart was still in turmoil. While she and Nate were not without a fair share of issues in their life together, the loss of him had still hit her hard. She wasn’t sure that she was ready for something serious again, but at the same time...Danse’s presence comforted her, made this terrible place a little more worth fighting for. That day, after Maxson had flown off again in his vertibird, she and Danse had fallen into each other’s arms with a frenetic energy. She didn’t know if it was relief or just acting out after a day of extreme stress, but they crashed into each other as though they’d found a well after a week without water.

After, Keirsten had been wracked with guilt. Danse had rubbed her back, his palm warm against her bare skin, and assured her that it was okay. Whatever she needed, whatever she wanted - or didn’t want - was entirely up to her. He would respect her decision. She told him she wasn’t sure, that she didn’t know yet. She’d managed to hold her tears in until she left the bunker to head home. She didn’t want him to see her cry, and feel worse than he already did. He’d just lost his entire life, and here she was being a monkey wrench.

There had been much celebrating after the Institute fell. Every city and settlement across the Commonwealth had broken out the good stuff, partying until dawn. Even her Minutemen, back at the Castle, pulled out one of the great casks kept in the cellar for the occasion. They had drunk and caroused until the thought of the following day’s hangover finally sent them to bed. Kristen skipped the drinking. She didn’t feel much like celebrating. The Institute was gone, but the moral burden of that implication still weighed heavily on her.

She had many plans for the Commonwealth now. She wanted to work to repair the infrastructure the best she could. She wanted to ensure trade routes were safe, that settlements were secure, and that there were hospitals when people needed them. It was a huge task, and she knew she wasn’t going to tackle it all in a couple days. It could wait. The task now was sleep. She desperately needed sleep. As the walls of the Castle loomed over the horizon, Keirsten breathed a sigh of relief. There was an end to her fatigue in sight. She really was feeling terrible. There was a shakiness to her now she did not recognize. She thought back to the things she had seen in the FEV lab and shivered. Had she stuck herself with something among all that broken glass and lab equipment, without realizing? _Please be the flu,_ she thought to herself. _Please be the flu._

Curie was delighted when Keirsten stepped through her clinic doors, but after taking one look at her, she _tutted_ in disapproval and bade her sit down on an exam table. 

“Ms General, what have you done to yourself?” Her lilting French accent was still sweet even when she had that severe tone.

“I don’t know, Curie. That is where you come in. I am exhausted all the time. Today I nearly fainted. I feel shaky and feverish and just...generally yuck-o.”

“Generally yuck-o,” she repeated, an eyebrow raised skeptically. “Well, let me draw some blood, and I will do a full volley of tests. Oui? Oui.” 

She pulled a tray close and grabbed a handful of vials from the cabinet. As she tied the band around her elbow, Keirsten watched her. Even she could see her skin was paler than normal. 

“Curie,” Keirsten asked, her voice had an edge of fear to it. “Do you think I’ve caught something? What if I’m turning into a...ghoul...or something?”

“You cannot simply turn in a ghoul, silly,” Curie said. “The level of radiation required for such a thing to occur is no longer present in the Commonwealth. Not even in the Glowing Sea. My guess is you ate something you should not have.”

“This has been going on for a while,” she confessed carefully.

“How long is a while?” Curie’s eyes were concerned.

“Weeks. Maybe a month or...two.”

Curie threw up her hands. “You have been sick for _months_ and did not think it warranted my attention!? _Keirsten, that is ridiculous_!” Keirsten gulped. Hoo boy. She’d used her name, that was a bad sign.

By now, Curie had three vials of her blood collected. She placed the last one on the tray and faced Keirsten, hands on her hips.

“You are to go to bed and rest,” she ordered. “I mean it. Drink lots of fluids and rest. As soon as I have your test results in, I will come find you and we will go over them together.”

“Yes, Curie.” Her voice was meek and ashamed. Curie was both adorable and terrifying when her temper flared.

As Keirsten entered the courtyard, however, she could hear a distress call coming through the radio as a Minuteman frantically scribbled the details down..

_“...Under heavy fire. Not sure we have...enough manpower. Requesting assistance. All available Minutemen...please report to Sanctuary. Need is...urgent.”_

In the background of the audio, she could hear the staccato of gunfire from the turrets in Sanctuary, and shouting and yelling. She ran to the radio, where Preston stood listening, his face grave. He saw her, and relief broke out over his face.

“General, you’re here! Thank God. Sanctuary is under heavy fire. They are requesting all available bodies respond. I don’t know what is attacking them, but...it sounds bad. They are outgunned.”

“How do we get there fast?” She asked. She could feel her heartbeat racing in her ears. 

“Well, we do have the reclaimed vertibird,” Preston said. _Ah, yes_. They had salvaged a pre-war vertibird found in a warehouse some time ago, and Sturges had gotten it back to peak condition. They used it for emergencies only, and if there was ever an emergency it was now. The downside to that plan was only a few of them could go.

“You’re with me on this. Grab two of our best men. I need to grab a couple guns from my bunk and then I’ll join you on the bird.” Keirsten ordered.

Preston nodded, and she sprinted to her bunk - fatigue forgotten as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She grabbed her combat rifle from where it leaned against the wall, as well as her shotgun. She slung her ammo bag, full of loaded magazines, across her body and checked to make sure she still had a handful of stimpacks. Good. She dashed back to the courtyard and out the front gate. The vertibird’s rotors were kicking up dirt and grass as she approached. Preston offered a hand and hauled her up. With one of their men already on the minigun, Keirsten chose to stand, looking out the side of the vertibird as they rose in the air and began the journey towards Sanctuary.

As they neared Sanctuary, nausea rose in her throat again - but it was not from whatever illness she carried. Smoke rose from columns in the distance. That was a lot of smoke. She was terrified they would land to find her people dead. And Danse...Danse was there. _Danse, you’d better be okay. We have a lot to figure out still and I can’t bear losing you, too._ As the bird drew closer, she could see now the smoke came from a couple of the houses. They were burning. Their people were in the center of Sanctuary, taking cover behind houses and old cars. They’d put together a rudimentary firing line. Surrounding them, pushing the advantage of higher ground, were a whole lot of super mutants. Keirsten had never seen so many in one place. She met Preston’s eyes, and they were as troubled as hers. She cast her eyes back down as the vertibird circled, taking stock.

Down on the ground, she could see a figure in power armor pointing and clearly issuing orders. Relief bloomed in her chest, spreading warmth throughout her body. Danse. He was still alive. And from the looks of it, doing his favorite thing - bossing people around. A smile twitched at her lips, before fading as she returned to surveying the threat. 

“We can’t land,” Preston shouted. “They are far too heavily armed. We will have to set down outside of Sanctuary and press in from the flank. Otherwise we risk losing the bird.” 

She was about to answer, when she heard the pilot curse. 

“Shit, they’ve got a missile launcher. Hang on tight, I’ve got to pull some evasive maneuvers!” 

The vertibird dipped right as she secured her grip on the straps. Their view switched from sky to ground to sky again as they flipped and dodged an incoming missile. The horizon righted itself, and for the second time that day Keirsten was nearly positive she was going to vomit. 

“I’m going to take us down just beyond the old bridge,” their pilot shouted. “You’ll need to evac quickly so I can take off again right a--”

His words were cut off by a blinding explosion as a missile hit the left rotor. Keirsten felt blistering heat roll over her, and threw up an arm to shield her eyes. She could smell singed hair. The vertibird fell into a tailspin as their pilot frantically tried to control the descent. 

“Hang on tight,” he yelled over the scream of the remaining rotor. “We are going to land hard, and right in the middle of them.”

_Good,_ she thought. _If we are going to die in a fiery wreck, maybe we can take a few of these mutants out with us._

The vertibird slammed into the ground with a loud groan of renting metal. Dirt flew up around it as they hit the earth. Keirsten’s hold on the straps failed as she tumbled over in the impact. She felt herself flying, falling - ejected out the side of the bird as it rolled. She lay on the ground, gasping, mentally taking in the damage. She was reasonably sure she’d broken a few ribs and had serious burns on her right arm, but shock was now cocooning her senses and she couldn’t be sure of anything. She blinked up at the sky, hazy with smoke, her eyes tearing up at the grit invading them. She willed herself to get up. There was still a fight ahead, and now they were in the thick of the enemy.

A shadow fell over her. Keirsten’s eyes rose to find the source. A super mutant stood over her, blocking the sun, his beady eyes taking her in as he chuckled.

“Human not so tough now,” he declared gleefully. She reached for her handgun at her hip, but her stunned body was not fast enough. The mutant stepped on her hand, not hard enough to crush it but enough to halt the movement.

“Not so fast, human. We have _plan_ for you.” With that, he struck her hard enough that she saw stars before the world around her faded to black. Her last thought was of Danse.


	2. Chapter 2

Preston woke up coughing. His leg was pinned underneath a large piece of vertibird, and pain - pulsing and growing in intensity - shot up his leg. The fact that he could still feel it was a good sign, at least. He looked around him groggily, trying to focus his blurring vision. The firefight had ramped up again, and as his eyesight cleared he saw why. Reinforcements - Minutemen from all over the Commonwealth - were flooding into Sanctuary from all directions, and the super mutants now had fire from both sides to contend with. More coughing racked Preston’s sore body as he attempted to lift the metal beam pinning his leg to the ground. There was no use. The weight of the vertibird was keeping him pinned. He could see into the cockpit. The pilot - _James, his name was James_ \- was clearly dead, a large bullet hole in his chest. One of the mutants must have shot him as he struggled to escape the cockpit. Preston cursed to himself. They must have assumed he was dead, lying here bleeding and unmoving, and left him alone.

The ground shook with the thunder of someone in power armor running towards the grounded bird. Preston looked up as the steps drew close, pausing, and locked eyes with Danse. The man took one look at Preston and the situation he was in, and gripped what remained of the vertibird’s tail.

“I’m going to lift this, and you will need to pull yourself free of the wreck,” Danse instructed. “Are you able to do so?”

“Yeah, I can manage,” Preston was clenching his teeth against the pain now, but his arms seemed to be fine. He could drag himself clear.

Danse gripped the bird tightly, the hydraulics in his suit humming as he lifted the great weight from the ground. Preston gasped with relief as the pressure on the beam lessened, and he pulled himself out of the way. Once he was freed, Danse let the vertibird drop again with a crash. He leaned over Preston, giving him a cursory visual examination.

“Where’s...Penny?” Preston gasped, his lungs protesting the smoke inhalation. He saw Danse stiffen, his eyes narrow.

“Penny was with you?” Danse asked sharply.

“Yes. She...was thrown from the vertibird. Didn’t see...Where she landed.” Shock was wearing off, and Preston found himself shaking. Danse’s face darkened, his dark air wild and hanging over his eyes from the helmet. 

“I will search the area. In the meantime, we need to get you stabilized.” He waved a medic over, and the woman dropped beside Preston and began applying a tourniquet immediately. With Preston being seen to, Danse left to search for Penny.

“The leg is broken,” the medic told him. “I’m going to have to set it before I can give you any stims. It’s going to hurt, sir.” 

“More than it hurts now?” Preston said, hoping there was humor in his voice as intended. 

“You might want to bite down on something.”

Preston wasn’t one to dispute medical advice, so he took the leather strap of his bandolier in his teeth and nodded at her. With a quick, decisive movement she set the bone. Preston was surprised by a hoarse scream, then realized it was him screaming. The medic winced.

“Sorry about that. It gets better from here.” She pulled a stimpack from her kit and injected it, followed by some Med-X. Relief flooded Preston’s body as the medication took hold, dulling the pain and working quickly to knit tissue back together again.

“You won’t be able to walk on it for some time yet,” the medic cautioned. “Stay put. We have driven the mutants back... those that we didn’t kill, anyway. You’re safe to lie here until we can sort out a stretcher and get you moved.”

Preston nodded and closed his eyes. The Med-X was making him woozy and sleepy. Minutes passed. All around him people were rushing, tending to the wounded and putting out fires, looking for the missing and finding them. Even Mama Murphy was walking about with a shotgun in her hands, ready for a fight. The sight of the frail, petite woman holding a shotgun half the length of her made Preston smile to himself. She was a tough little thing. There was a time when Mama might have seen this coming. After Keirsten persuaded her to give up the Jet for good, they had accepted that whatever came, they would deal with it. Keirsten had told Mama Murphy that each day of her life was precious, and shortening it with chems was simply not worth it. No answers were worth that price. If there was any one defining moment that solidified Preston’s faith in Keirsten as a human being, it was that. She was not willing to sacrifice another for the good of many, which was no easy way to live. Especially with all the things she’d taken on her plate nearly immediately after thawing.

How long had Danse been gone, Preston wondered groggily. He should have found Penny by now. Unless she was badly hurt, like Preston. Or...worse. _No._ Preston dismissed the thought, refusing to even consider such a thing. There was no way Keirsten had survived everything thrown at her only to be taken out by a vertibird crash. _Or a super mutant after the crash,_ the intrusive inner voice whispered. Preston propped himself up on an elbow, trying to spot Danse in the crowd of people rushing about. The charred body of the vertibird blocked much of his view. Checking to make sure the medic wasn’t keeping an eye on him, Preston pulled himself farther away from the crash until he could survey the entire crash site. There was Danse - in what looked like a very serious conversation with Sturges. As though he could feel eyes on him, Danse turned and met Preston’s gaze. Even at the distance between them, Preston could see the concern clearly etched on Danse’s face. Preston felt as though the world was dropping out from under him, then, and he didn’t think it was entirely due to the Med-X causing a floating sensation.

Had they found her, then? Was she hurt? Thoughts churned through Preston’s fogged mind. He strained his eyes, trying to read lips, but could not make out what Sturges was saying as he gestured towards the vertibird, explaining something. Danse was frowning, nodding. Then, to Preston’s surprise, Danse opened the power armor and stepped out. He wore a black flight suit, tailored to his large frame. The material was shiny, almost like leather - but clearly of a synthetic nature. Free of the cumbersome armor, Danse crouched and examined the ground. Preston could see his lips moving as he muttered something to himself. He touched the grass, and lifted his fingers - feeling something between the pads of his index finger and thumb. Even from here Preston could see the flash of crimson against Danse’s skin. Abruptly, all the warmth left Preston’s body. 

Danse scanned the area surrounding the bloody grass, staying crouched as he walked about, sorting out whatever clues remained. His eyes shifted, following something on the ground, and Preston followed the direction they went. The vertibird had crashed about 50 feet from the chain link security fence surrounding all of Sanctuary. Whatever Danse was seeing, his eyes had landed on a section of fence that had been cut away, torn open. He rose, an imposing figure even without his power suit, and strode towards the fence. Preston couldn’t take the suspense any longer.

“Danse!” he called. “What’s going on?” 

Danse paused in his stride, looked over at Preston and then back towards the fence. He looked around at all the people bustling about putting out fires and tending to the damage, and then loped over to where Preston lay on the grass. He crouched low, so he could speak without being overheard.

“There is blood on the grass. I think that is where she landed. Whether she was injured in the landing or by something else, I cannot say. The blood trail and some very large footprints lead towards the hole in the fence, however. I think they…” he seemed to struggle with the words he needed to say. “I think they took her.”

“They? The _super mutants_?” Preston groaned. Of all the things in the Commonwealth to be in the clutches of, super mutants were the worst. Hell, even a deathclaw had the decency to kill you quickly before eating you. His stomach lurched.

“I must pursue them,” Danse said. “By now they have quite a head start. You are in no condition to travel,” he added, holding up a hand when he saw the look on Preston’s face. “You must stay and recover until your leg can hold your weight. I will find her, Preston.”

“You can’t go alone,” Preston protested. “You saw how many of them there were. You might be tough, Danse, but nobody is _that_ tough.”

Danse growled. It was a low, guttural sound full of hurt and rage. “I don’t have time to raise an army. Preston, you don’t know what those _creatures_ are capable of. I have no _time_. Even now, I am burning precious seconds explaining all this to you.” 

“Just take some of the men that are here now. Grab a handful of them. Tell them it’s for...me. For the General.”

Danse ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more, and nodded. “Yes. That’s a good idea.” He rose to his feet and walked briskly away from Preston.

  
  


The stimpack was working miracles. By midnight, Preston was able to stand again. There was still some pain - his body was nowhere near done healing yet - but he limped around Sanctuary restlessly, helping settle the chaos until all but he and the men on watch had retired. Still no word from Danse. The radio was completely silent. By now, they’d have to have caught up to the super mutants. How fast could those enormous creatures move, and with an injured prisoner in tow? 

Preston fretted away the night hours. Danse did not return until sunrise the next day - the group of Minutemen he’d recruited looking bedraggled. No doubt they’d had a hell of a night, trying to keep up with a man possessed... and in power armor no less. Preston didn’t know Danse very well. Not in the way one might know a friend, or a regular companion. That fact aside, he had never seen such a terrible look on the man’s face. He was a thundercloud, his eyes dark and his heavy brows drawn down tightly. As the company marched into Sanctuary, the Minutemen parting off and finding their way to bunks, Danse approached Preston.

“They followed the river,” he said bleakly. “I tried to track them, but once night fell it was a near hopeless cause. Somewhere around midnight, we got stuck in a firefight with a band of raiders we’d stumbled on. Literally. We came out of it without any casualties. They did not.” There was grim satisfaction in his tone at that.

“Where would a band of mutants that large go?” Preston mused. They had their usual haunts - mostly around old downtown Boston. That area had more mutants than most parts of the Commonwealth.

Danse shook his head. “I really don’t know. When I was...with the Brotherhood, we never got any intel on such a large group. They could be anywhere. They may have banded together for this particular attack and then dispersed throughout the Commonwealth. Harder to track that way. At this point, it’s much like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“You think this attack was deliberate? Coordinated?” Preston asked, surprised.

“You think it wasn’t?” Danse’s tired eyes were sharp, contemplative. “This attack was on a massive scale. The others and I estimated there were probably fifty mutants all told. What’s more, I think Keirsten was the target. They knew this was her home base, they knew she would rush to defend it if it were under a true threat... A threat large enough the turrets and existing guard could not fight it off alone. She showed up, they grabbed her, and then the entire group retreated.”

“Well, reinforcements did arrive. They were outnumbered by then.”

“Have you ever seen a super mutant back down from anything? They fight until they die. There is no reason in them. You didn’t see the way they were acting, pinned down as you were. One moment, they were fighting the reinforcements - the next, they were high-tailing it out of here as fast as they could run. That’s not typical mutant behavior.”

“No, it’s not. You’re right,” Preston admitted. “But why the General? Why her?”

“Who else?” Danse queried. “She unified the three major factions in the Commonwealth. She demolished the Institute. If there were anyone who was even close to being a figurehead for humanity, as they see it, she’d be it.”

“Do you think she’s some kind of...political prisoner, then?” Preston asked. The way that Danse looked at him before answering made a shiver of dread crawl up Preston’s spine.

“God, Preston, I hope so. I hope that’s all it is.”

They decided the best thing to do was return to the Castle. There, they would contact the Brotherhood and the Railroad to put out feelers and help gather any intel. Someone somewhere in the Commonwealth had to have seen a pack of near fifty super mutants running to a destination. The Brotherhood had eyes in the sky, and the Railroad had ears to the ground. Preston believed something would turn up. Something had to. He didn’t know if he could bear the alternative. 

  
  


-

Water was dripping somewhere, and the persistent rhythm finally drew Keirsten from sleep. Her mouth was dry, a metallic taste on her tongue. Her head was absolutely _pounding_ . Disoriented, she sat up - wincing at the pain of her broken ribs and aching body. When she fell from the vertibird, she had hit the ground _hard_ . Her face felt swollen, and when she inspected it gingerly with careful fingers, she knew her nose was broken. One eye was half swollen shut. Her lower lip was puffy and split. Her stomach heaved when she recognized the coppery residue in her mouth, but she held herself together somehow. She’d kill for some water about now. She looked around her. She was in a padded room - much like one you would find in an asylum. The padding was tattered, but intact. She lay on an old cot with a thin, filthy mattress. It was the only item of furniture in the room, besides a bucket in a corner. Oh, _ugh._ She hoped that wasn’t for her.

The last thing she remembered was a super mutant hitting her hard, and then she lost consciousness. She considered the idea that she was maybe in a hospital, and under someone’s care. No, definitely not. She had been dumped here in rough shape and left to her own devices. Nobody had tended to her while she was out. She scooted off the cot, gasping and clutching at her side. Pain shot through her with fire-hot tendrils. _Easy does it, just go slow,_ she cautioned herself as she slowly stood. There was a tiny window at the very top of one wall - too high to reach. Daylight from outside filtered in through it, illuminating the room with natural light. The door to the room had a small viewing slot. She walked over to the door and pressed her ear to it, listening. She could not hear any movement or voices. All she could see through the slot was a door to the room opposite her, and a little ways each direction down the hallway.

“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone out there?”

Her voice echoed through an empty building. Her heartbeat took on a frantic tempo and she focused on clenching and unclenching her fists until it began to slow. She could not lose control, not now. She was in a strange place, being held by an unknown enemy, and she was injured. Panic would not serve her here. She had been in much worse situations - both pre-war and after waking up in the vault. Whatever this new situation was, she would survive it. She returned to her cot, lowering herself awkwardly back down. She thought about her people in Sanctuary; about the horde of super mutants closing in on them. If there was anything good and merciful watching over them, _let them be safe_ . Let them have survived the attack and come out of it unharmed. She did not care what happened to her, as long as the people she loved so deeply were alright. Preston. Sturges. Mama Murphy. _Danse_. She put pressure at her temples, willing the ache behind her eyes - the tears threatening to spring forth - to go away. She would not cry in this cell.

She looked up as her ears discerned the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy footsteps. She winced. Had the super mutants decided it was dinner time? She hauled herself up from the cot again - every movement taxing her screaming nerves - and drew away to the corner farthest from the door, ready to kick and bite and punch if necessary. The solid footfalls stopped outside her door, and two rheumy, piggy eyes peered in through the slot.

“Ah, human awake. Good. Was afraid mutant broke you. Humans fragile, soft. Break easy.” 

Keirsten stared. That was the most words strung together she’d ever heard out of a super mutant. Usually they talked less and shot at you more.

The eyes regarded her. “Maybe human _is_ broke. Not speak.”

“What am I doing here? Where are we?” She retorted. Might as well demand some answers if she was going to have this conversation.

“Not for human to know. Crusher have plan for you. Human find out soon.”

“If you’re going to eat me, could you please do it soon? While I’m still tenderized.” 

Keirsten jumped when the super mutant bellowed out a loud laugh at her joke. He was still laughing as he turned away and walked back down the hall. 

Of all the things Keirsten had expected, being the captive of super mutants was not one of them. Usually if super mutants had you, you woke up to find yourself tied to a spit and turning over a fire. They weren’t known for being hosts or delaying your death. She had never heard of a situation like hers. She knew sometimes super mutants liked to change humans into being like them. That was...a disturbing thought. Horror passed over her as she thought about Danse, about the fate of his friend and squad mate Cutler. Cutler had been captured and changed by super mutants, and Danse had been too late to save him. He’d had to pull the trigger and put an end to Cutler’s suffering. _Oh, no_ . Would he have to go through the same thing all over again, but with _her_ ? She found herself fervently wishing the crash had killed her. If mutation was the fate that awaited her, death was much kinder...for her _and_ Danse. Cutler’s fate had been a shadow that hung over Danse, even on the sunniest days. And now...she may be the one to add to that burden even further.

The mutant had mentioned ‘Crusher.’ Given their penchant for referring to themselves in third person, that could either mean _his_ name was Crusher, or there was another mutant named Crusher who was the one with a plan for her. Either way, it likely involved an ending where they gnawed on her bones around a warm fire. She patted down her clothing, but they had taken everything - even the knife from her boot. She was entirely without a way to defend herself - or if need be, end herself. She didn’t want it to come to that, but death would be a better alternative to anything super mutants planned to do to her. Of that, she was certain. She staggered back to the cot, the fight and adrenaline leaving her body and a familiar exhaustion returning. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this. For now, all she could do was watch and wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Danse paced around the radio as Preston spoke to Proctor Ingram. They had no idea he was here. As far as any members of the Brotherhood knew - with the exception of Haylen and Rhys - he was dead. Hearing Ingram’s voice as Preston relayed the details to her, though… that reopened some wounds. While Keirsten was a reluctant member of the order - staying mainly out of diplomatic reasons - the Brotherhood had been everything to Danse. Without them, he was struggling to find his sense of purpose. Not that it mattered now. The only thing that mattered at present was finding Keirsten and getting her back. Before it was too late. Images of Cutler flashed through Danse’s mind, try though he might to suppress them. Pulling the trigger on his friend, even knowing it was saving him from losing himself forever, had been the most difficult thing Danse had ever done. Just the thought of Keirsten having the same fate befall her made the marrow in his bones ache. He couldn’t do this without her. Couldn’t live out this new life without her. 

The way he felt about her...it wasn’t something he had told her. Couldn’t tell her. She was still twisted up in grief, and it was far too soon for something new to grow. He felt shame for even touching her, but his desperate need for her and her need for something to distract herself from the pain had overridden their better judgement. He’d felt her pull away, after. Distancing herself while she worked out the conflicts in her mind and her heart. He would never dream of pressuring her or making any demands of her. All he could do was love her, and hope that someday there would be a place in her heart for him, too. Danse had never loved anyone, not like this at least. He found the new emotion to be a bittersweet one. He had risen each day looking forward to the chiming bell of her laughter - even though the sound of it cut through his very soul. If a machine could even have a soul.

“...Thank you, Proctor. Any assistance the Brotherhood can offer in the search is invaluable,” Preston was saying as he wrapped up the communication. “Radio us any time, day or night, if you have news. We will have someone standing by at all hours.”

As he put the headset down, Preston looked up at Danse with troubled eyes.

“They haven’t seen anything either, but Ingram promised they would look into it immediately. Their ground troops and vertibirds should be able to turn something up soon. With Desdemona and Deacon working on contacting everyone in their network… our chances of finding the General have got to be good, if not great. We’ll have eyes everywhere.”

“We should get back out there and look as well,” Danse was still lost in thought, combing through his memories for anything of significance he might have forgotten. “I want to follow the river again, now that daylight is on our side. There may be something we missed.”

“I think that’s a solid plan,” Preston said. He stood and stretched. “Let’s gear up and head out. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I am completely healed now.” He must have noticed Danse’s skeptical look.

“If I am taking you with me, you need to get cleared by Curie. I want to know that bone has completely knit back together before we go. I can’t have anyone slowing me down.” 

Preston sighed. “Fine, let’s go see Curie. And then we go.”

Curie leaped to her feet when the two of them walked in. Danse looked at her work table. She had been pouring various liquids into a beaker. Science always made him somewhat nervous, but Keirsten trusted and adored Curie. Danse would have to trust her, too.

“My goodness, is it true? Our Keirsten was taken?” she breathed, gliding over to them. Her hands were fluttering nervously.

“Yes,” Danse answered. “But we are doing everything in our power to find her. Which brings us to the reason we are here; we need you to check and make sure Preston’s leg is fit for travel before we can join the search in earnest.”

“Yes, of course, whatever you need!” Curie exclaimed. She turned her attention to Preston. “Please, come lie down. We will take an X-ray of your leg.” 

Preston climbed up onto the bed and stretched out his leg as instructed. Curie pulled the arm of the emitter down close.

“I will take a series of images now. Be sure to lie still.” she instructed. She moved to the far end of the room, taking Danse by the arm and guiding him along with her. Danse stood by as she picked up her clicker and began taking images.

“I pulled you aside for a reason,” Curie confided in a low tone. “There is a matter I feel I must share with you.”

“What is it?” Danse whispered back.

“Keirsten came to see me before the events at Sanctuary. She told me she had not been feeling well for...some time. I ran a volley of tests, but by the time I had results… she had been taken.”

“Is she sick?” his tone rose just a fraction. He thought about how her son, Shaun, had been slowly dying of cancer. Perhaps it was genetic.

“Sick, no. But... she _is_ pregnant.”

Danse felt his mouth drop open. He scrambled for words. “I don’t understand. I thought...Gen 3 synthetics cannot have children. You yourself told me as much once. You said we were only simulacrum in that regard.”

Curie shook her head. If she noticed his automatic assignment of blame, she did not comment on it.

“I am not telling you this because I think you are the father. You cannot be. I am telling you this because I need you to understand how urgent this mission is. Not only is Keirsten potentially a hostage, but she is also pregnant, severely anemic, and... According to my analysis of her blood, she is around 19 weeks along. The child was conceived sometime shortly before the bombs fell.”

Danse could not have been more thunderstruck than if an actual bolt of lightning had hit him while fully suited up. _Keirsten was carrying a child. Nate’s child_ . And based on what Curie was telling him...Keirsten had no idea yet. It seemed life had not finished being cruel to her. She was still mourning her husband’s death, and now she would have a child to contend with. If she were still alive. If they found her in time. _If, if, if._ There could be no certainty in anything, with so many unknowns. His heart ached for her; for what she must be going through now, and for what she must face in the future.

“Danse, you must find her.” Curie’s eyes, large and dark, shone with tears. “We cannot leave her in the clutches of such creatures.”

“I will find her,” Danse vowed, steely resolve coiling in his belly. He would find her, no matter what it took. He only hoped he would be bringing her home, rather than avenging her.

“Hey.. guys? Are we done here?” Preston called from across the room. 

Curie gave Danse one last squeeze on his arm, her face kind, before hurrying back to her patient. 

  
  
  


With the all-clear given by Curie and the day bright and clear, Danse and Preston hit the road with Dogmeat loping along beside them. Danse had a feeling the dog’s nose might come in handy. It had before, after all. Preston had borrowed Keirsten’s set of power armor. He protested the idea at first, said he felt wrong doing it, but Danse pointed out that it would even the playing field and allow Preston to keep up with him. Preston reluctantly agreed and climbed in. Danse’s plan was to fan out, following the river starting from where they’d lost the mutants. His hope was that they had a rendezvous point that might be close to the water, even if not close to Sanctuary. 

“Look for any sign of a large number of creatures passing through. Grass packed flat, rocks overturned, disturbed soil, foot imprints in mud or soft earth,” he told Preston. “Obviously we are looking for tracks that are like ours, but much larger.”

Preston obediently scanned the terrain. They split - Danse on one side of the river with Dogmeat, Preston on the other. As they slogged along the shoreline, branching out wider here and there when something looked suspicious, Danse found himself lost in his thoughts again. His mind had run a thousand possible scenarios of a life with Keirsten past him, like pictures from a movie. It ranged from wandering the wasteland together, running from the Brotherhood and scavenging for a living. Not unlike his life -more like the lies that were his memories - was before. Other times, he thought about being one of her Minutemen, joining their ranks and disguising himself beneath a beaten tricorn hat. Together they would clear the Commonwealth of all threats and restore peace. He knew that was what she wanted most - to restore some semblance of true civilization. She wanted people to feel safe growing their crops and raising their families. He’d thought about that, too. Somehow the most appealing option. Him working in the fields while she built a windmill. Maybe a couple kids. Shit. He’d really thought that was a possibility someday. That dream had been in the earlier days, before he found out the true dead end he was.

He’d had so many questions about himself, once the secret came out. Keirsten, wanting him to have the answers he needed, took him to Curie. Who better to explain his physiology to him than a medical genius who was once a robot and now possessed a synthetic body? He had learned that since his body was technically organic material, albeit synthesized, he would age just like any biological lifeform. The strength and resilience of his tissues meant he would not be affected by things humans were - radiation would not harm him the same way, as he had increased resistance to it. He would not experience the same diseases humans did. And...he would never father any children. 

“On the outside, you are identical in every way to any human,” Curie had explained gently. “On the inside, it is a little different. I do not think the Institute wanted their creations to ever escape the control they had. If they had given you the ability to create life, you would have overshadowed their own power in that regard.” 

The part that stung was that before meeting Keirsten, he had never had any dreams for the future. He’d fully expected to serve the Brotherhood until death took him. She’d changed everything, just by being herself. He’d never met anyone so absolutely selfless. He loved the way her eyes searched his when they spoke, as though his true feelings - whatever his words may belie - was the most important thing in the world to her at that moment. He had a tendency to brood, to withdraw inside himself and assume the worst. Always, she drew him out. Made him see the whole picture. Filled him with hope again. 

“Danse!” Preston’s voice pulled him from his deliberation. Danse jerked to attention, looking across the water. 

“I think I’ve got something here,” Preston called. Danse ran down the bank and clomped through the water, splashing as the wide legs of the power armor cut through the current. Dogmeat paddled across easily, reaching shore first. Preston stood alongside a handful of tracks. Danse scrutinized them. There were three, no, four sets of prints. That might be enough to be part of the group that fled Sanctuary.

“There is this, too,” Preston pointed. Danse’s eyes followed. There, shining in the light of the bright sun were several long strands of honey-brown hair. Danse would know that color anywhere. He pulled the branch down closer to be sure. It was definitely some of Keirsten’s hair. Dogmeat barked, recognizing the scent.

“They came through here alright,” he said grimly. “One of them must have been carrying her. At this height, those didn’t snag there without her being a lot taller than she normally is.”

Super mutants were anywhere from 7 to 8 feet tall. At 5’5”, Keirsten definitely could not have reached that branch alone. He thought of her, tossed over a shoulder like a sack of tatos, and bared his teeth in rage.

He bent down, touching the earth where the footprints were. “Can you get the scent, boy?” he asked the dog. Dogmeat snuffled at the earth for a moment, then lifted his head and tested the wind before wheeling in place and dashing off in the direction of the prints.

The trail led them southeast until they lost it around the Mass Pike tunnel - though it was clear from the direction of the prints that the mutants hadn’t gone into the tunnel. They’d continued on, back into Boston. The puddles still filling potholes around the area told them enough - A storm had blown through this area the night before. The scent would be harder to follow here. He racked his brain for what he knew of the area. Trinity Tower had a lot of mutants in it, usually. It was one of their favorite places to haunt. They would start there. Maybe there would be something to go off of...or at the very least, a super mutant to interrogate. Well, that was one way to deal with the pressure of rage building within him each passing moment.

  
  


-

The blessing of having a window to her cell, even if it was small, was that it allowed Keirsten to mark the passing days. Two days and nights had passed. Her jailer had not spoken to her again, though twice now a can of Cram had been pushed through the cutout in the door, made for food to be delivered. Each time, the can fell through and then the sliding hatch was slammed shut and locked again. Of all the food in the world, Keirsten probably hated Cram the most. She absolutely loathed any sort of canned meat. Especially now, as sick and weak as she felt. But food was food, and she was in no position to be picky. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but something was better than nothing in this case. She’d gagged the spongy meat down - fighting her gag reflex the entire ‘meal’ - and then lay back on her cot, dizzy. She probably had a concussion on top of everything being broken. How nice.

On day three, steps approached. Keirsten didn’t move, expecting another can of Cram to come tumbling through. This time, the door swung open fully. Keirsten looked up, surprised at first and then dread creeping over her as she saw the super mutant standing in the doorway. He did not speak, only looked her over with an air that spoke clearly enough. _You are beneath me._ Keirsten did not speak either. If this was a standoff, that was at least something she could win. She raised one eyebrow, crooked one corner of her mouth up, and waited.

“You are weaker now,” the mutant said at last. “When human first came to this place, had fight left in you. Now sit here, waiting to die. Weak little human.” The malice in his words was not missed. The words were typical for a mutant. They always yelled this sort of thing while trying to kill you. But the malice was new. There was intelligence in it, despite the stilted language.

“I’m going to hazard a guess you are the illustrious ‘Crusher,” Keirsten answered.

“I am Crusher,” he acknowledged. “I would show how I got name, but...can't. Other plans for you.” His enormous fists were clenched at his side. No doubt he wanted desperately to do some crushing.

“What are you waiting for, the balloons and flowers to be delivered? Come on, let’s not drag this out any longer. I’m bored in here.”

“Brave words. Humans like brave words. Some try to be brave at end. Like the metal men. They try hardest. Always, humans scream the same. Always taste the same.” His face twisted up in a hideous grin. 

“Yeah, I hear we taste like chicken. So why the Hotel California bit, Crush? What are you waiting for?”

His lips curled. He was irritated by her flippancy. Good. As long as he stayed in that doorway, she could shit talk all day. If he came after her… well, maybe she could piss him off enough to crush her skull.

“We waiting for special serum. This one we make... just for you.” Her face paled at that, and seeing it, his snarl turned back into a grin. “What, human? Not want to be like us? You ugly now, we make you pretty.”

He chuckled at his little joke. She ran a hand through her snarled hair.

“I’ll pass on the serum, but if you could bring me a hairbrush...that would be lovely.”

Crusher moved across the room _fast_ for something so large. Before Keirsten could even put her hands up, he’d wrapped one large hand around her throat and lifted her from the cot. She screamed in pain as he slammed her against the wall. Spots swam in her vision as her ribs and broken nose protested the poor treatment.

“Words not matter, human. _You scream like the rest_. You are weak, like others. Others died, but this time...serum just right. He told us. Said you be the last one. Said we change you, send a message to your friends.”

Keirsten’s boots kicked at air as she struggled in the grip. “What...message?” she gasped out.

Crusher leaned close to her. So close she could smell the rotten meat on his breath, see the dark bits of it caught between his teeth. The yellowed whites of his eyes were stark against pupils so dilated they encompassed the iris.

“The Age...of Man...is ending.” He said each word carefully, deliberately, his crude features caressing the words. “Now is...the time...of the super mutant.”

He dropped her, let her fall onto her cot again. She nearly choked trying to suppress the howl of pain that tried to escape her as she landed.

Crusher turned at the door and looked down at her, curled around her ribs and whimpering.

“Soon, human. Not much longer now.” and with that, he slammed the door shut behind him and left her to nurse her wounds.

She lay on her cot, her sobbing quieting as the pain lowered from a roaring thunder to an angry murmur. Her mind slowly cleared and she regained some focus. Her worst fear was becoming reality. She’d hoped they just wanted to kill and eat her, ideally in that order. Now it seemed they were planning on using a serum on her - and not just any serum. It sounded like something concocted just for her. A special strain of FEV. _Others died_ , he’d said. They’d tested it on other subjects before using it on her. Shit. She’d unwittingly brought doom upon innocent people. She supposed that was the nature of being a hero to some. It inevitably meant you were a villain to others. By changing the dynamic in the Commonwealth, she’d painted a bright red target on her back. Come and get me.

The mutant had also referred to a _he. Whoever ‘he’ was,_ she thought, _he’d made the serum and told the mutants it was about ready to use on_ me. The picture was coming into focus now, though some details were still blurry. Crusher wasn’t the leader of some super mutant revolt. He was a puppet. Someone was pulling the strings, using him to get at her. The question was who? She thought about Virgil, out in the glowing sea. If he was even still there after she’d cured him. The man had been an expert on all things FEV. Hell, he’d been in charge of the FEV lab in the Institute for years before he fled. He had the knowledge to create such a thing, but would he? The entire reason he’d left the Institute was due to his moral objections to the cruel experiments being pointlessly run. If he was angry with her for destroying the Institute, _maybe_ that would make him angry enough to seek vengeance...but she doubted it.

_Think, Keirsten. Time is running out._ She couldn’t see raiders or Gunners involved in this. They were too stupid and small minded for something like this. Maybe a jaded wasteland doctor, or someone she’d tried to help and failed? Who hated her enough to go through all this?


	4. Chapter 4

Bits of mortar and brick flew everywhere as Danse punched a wall with the full might of his power armor behind the blow. Trinity Tower had been...empty. Never had he seen the place so devoid of life, mutant or otherwise. It had long been like a bug light to the super mutant population. Now, nothing. They had _been_ here. The signs of that were clear. Trash cans full of burned debris. Human bones scattered where they’d been thrown, picked clean. Bodies hanging from railings - flayed alive, entrails still hanging down from where they’d been cut. The scene was as gruesome as one might expect...minus the mutants. Danse’s best guess: they’d cleared out of this place a couple days prior to his arrival. There was _no way_ this wasn’t connected to the events at Sanctuary. This had the stink about it of a larger, darker plot in the works.

They made their way down a narrow alley, heading back towards Trinity Plaza to regroup and form a new plan. The entire area was strangely silent. Other than the occasional group of raiders, there was nothing. Normally the streets of old Boston were riddled with super mutants. You couldn’t walk three feet without laser fire just missing you from an overhead walkway.

Danse halted suddenly, surprising Preston. At the end of the alley, a large silhouette stepped into their path. Danse was a hair’s breadth away from firing, but noticed Dogmeat’s curious behavior and paused. He was wagging his tail. The dog trotted down the alley, unconcerned, as the figure drew closer.

“I see dog still alive. Not so weak after all.” The gravelly voice of a super mutant echoed off the surrounding brick walls as the figure came into the light of Danse’s headlamp. 

“Don’t come any further,” Danse warned, his laser rifle trained on the creature.

“If metal man shoots Strong, Strong cannot help.”

“Help me _what,_ ” Danse growled. 

“I think I know this, uh, guy,” Preston said behind him. “Strong, is that really you?”

Strong leveled a look at Preston. “Who does Preston think Strong is, _Grognak_?” he chortled to himself at that.

“State your business or get out of our way,” Danse said firmly. He was in no mood for whatever game this abomination was playing.

“Another day, Strong maybe eat metal man,” Strong mused. “But not today. Metal man and Preston are seeking their General.”

“ _What do you know about her_?” Danse all but roared. He felt Preston’s gauntlet on his arm, cautioning him. 

Strong did not seem particularly perturbed by the outburst. He drew closer, until he was only a few feet away from them. The shadows cast him in a frightening light. He was taller than either of them, even in their power armor, and easily twice Danse’s normal width.

“One day,” he said, sizing up Danse, “super mutants kill everything. Every human, every beast. Even rock and tree. Super mutant will rise over all. But not like this. Strong respect...Kerbsten.” here he had trouble saying Keirsten’s name, but went on. “Kerbsten is tough, great warrior. Saved Strong from fall off tower. Kerbsten is worthy of Strong’s help.”

“You know what they are planning? Where they’ve taken her?” Danse demanded.

Strong nodded.

“Where is she?” Preston’s softer voice broke in. “Tell us, so we can save her.”

“Strong not like betraying other mutants.” His face crinkled. “Strong cannot free Kerbsten. But you humans, not so weak. Maybe with more humans, there is chance.”

“ _Where_?” The word came out strained. Diplomacy was becoming a struggle for Danse.

“Building is close to the sea. Place for broken humans once. Has sign, like this.” Strong held up his hands, forming a cross. 

“Mass Bay Medical Center? Is that it?” Preston cried. Strong nodded, looking relieved someone had the right words.

“Humans should go now. Maybe there is time.”

“What are they doing there, Strong?” Preston urged, but Strong shook his head. 

“Destiny of super mutant...not for you to understand. Save Kerbsten and go. Too late to stop now.”

With that, he brushed past them and went on his way. Danse turned to stare at Preston, who stared back. 

“Well, that certainly wasn’t something I expected,” Preston laughed nervously.

“Goddamn Keirsten. She could make friends with a deathclaw if given a chance.” Danse shook his head, bewildered. She had never told him about Strong. Probably because she knew full well how much he hated super mutants. He had tried very hard to accept her life, the company she chose and the choices she made. The synth thing had worked out for her - hard for him to remain firm in his stance on them once it came to light he _was_ one of them. But a super mutant? Was she absolutely nuts? Did she have dinner with a family of feral ghouls every Sunday, too?

“What’s the plan here? Radio for backup?” Preston asked. Danse shook his head.

“Not just yet. We need to get there, first. We need to analyze the area, see what we are dealing with. If we go in guns blazing, it could cost us… _everything_.” His final word hung in the air, a shining jewel, before falling. He could see from Preston’s face that the man cared for Keirsten just as deeply, if not in the same manner, as Danse.

Danse took off at a sprint in the direction of the medical center, with Preston and Dogmeat close behind. 

-

Keirsten’s cell door opened again, and she expected to see Crusher - but it was another mutant. Maybe the first one she’d seen here. It was honestly impossible to tell. They all looked the same. Big, green, and mean. She giggled a little deliriously at that. 

“Human come now,” the mutant commanded. He held a pipe rifle in his hands. “If human run, me shoot human in the knees. No death, only pain. Lots of pain. Maybe they let me eat your legs.” His tone was hopeful.

“Relax, I’m coming. No drumsticks for _you_ tonight.” Her words were a front, at this point. She was absolutely terrified. Hysteria was burbling just below her surface. Was this it? Were her last moments as a human to be spent in this dismal place, bruised and broken? Her last meal a lukewarm can of Cram? The mutant guided her through the building, barking commands at her on when to turn and what doors to go through. Old signage at last told her where she was - the defunct Mass Bay Medical Center. There were mutants everywhere, shouting and laughing and roasting suspicious chunks of meat over fires. As she passed, they fell eerily silent and still - watching her with their beady eyes, expectant and waiting. The sight of them made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She’d never seen super mutants so...unified. The effect was alarming.

At length, they came to a large door leading to a medical lab. Her escort gestured at the door, urging her inside. Keirsten pulled the handle down with a shaking hand, and entered the room.

To the right, there was a medical table made of cold stainless steel. Leather restraint cuffs hung from the sides. Beside it was a tray, with a handful of syringes and a piece of surgical tubing. Gathered around a table in the center of the lab, she saw three figures - clad in white lab coats and wearing black hoods with masks. _What in the fresh hell is this?_ She wondered. Either they were trying to maintain anonymity or scare the hell out of her. Probably the latter, because it was working. Her abdominal muscles were clenched in fear, her body begging her to run. The barrel of the pipe pistol pushed her forward, towards the table and the figures in white.

“Ah, you have joined us at last. Welcome.” The figure in the middle gave a little mocking bow. The others did not move.

“Sorry if I’m late. Guess I misplaced the invitation.” Keirsten balled up her fists, pressing them into her thighs and willing them to be still. 

“Keirsten, I forgot how...funny...you could be.” the figure in the middle sounded amused. His voice was familiar...very familiar. He clearly knew her. She struggled with her memory, demanding answers, but none came. 

“Have we met somewhere? Is there a reason I have been brought here, to your villain’s lair?” she quipped.

“Oh, we have met.” His tone had cooled. He was confident, self-assured now. “I don’t imagine you ever expected to see me again. Yet here we are. Only this time, you are not circling me and sizing me up. This time, I think I am doing the circling.” He reached up, and with long and slender fingers, rolled down the fabric over his face.

Justin Ayo looked much the same as he had when Keirsten was first introduced to him. High cheekbones and sunken cheeks, in a thin face with a weak jaw. A thin, cruel mouth that was overshadowed by a sparse gray mustache and a somewhat bulbous nose. 

“You,” Keirsten breathed.

“Surprised to see me? Did you think I was dead? Part of the pile of ash you left in your wake, perhaps?” His voice was sharp and sneering.

Keirsten thought back to that night, when they’d stormed the Institute. _Do not stop anyone who wants out_ , she’d told Sturges. She’d let anyone who wanted to leave go. Ayo must have been one of those who fled - with no intention of blending into the Commonwealth after. She had sealed her own doom with a writ of mercy.

“What I did was necessary. I’d do it again if I had to,” she ground out.

“You’d, what, murder innocents again? I am not surprised. You valued synthetics... _machines..._ more than your own kind. How easy it must have been for you to push that button and destroy over a century’s worth of work.”

“You think it was _easy_ for me? That murdering my own son was like _flipping a light switch_ ?” Anger flooded Keirsten, overpowering the fear and uncertainty. “You manufactured _slaves_ for yourselves. You kidnapped, tortured, and _murdered_ human beings in the name of a greater good. Did you think I could just... stand by and allow such a thing to continue? That I would be constrained by my own DNA to such a degree? As far as I am concerned, your people killed my son the day they took him from me. He was never mine. The Institute made damn sure of _that_.” 

“Typical sentiments borne of a small mind,” Ayo snapped. “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

“Oh, I _did_ make a sacrifice for the greater good. It just wasn’t the sacrifice you wanted me to make.”

Ayo slammed his hands down on the table. “It doesn’t matter now. I did not bring you here to quibble over the details of your moral crusade.”

Keirsten lifted her chin. “Then why did you bring me here?”

His thin lips curved into a smile. “Before I fled for my life from the Institute, I grabbed something very important. Something I knew I would need in the days to come.”

“Is it more deadly than this drawn out bad guy monologue?” Keirsten drawled. Ayo’s eyes flashed with rage.

“It was the last thing Brian Virgil worked on. You see, the strain of FEV he designed and injected himself with was unique. It preserved his intelligence. While his body still went through all the changes other super mutants did, his mind was unchanged. He kept the things that made him himself. After he fled, I had my Coursers retrieve his remaining data, research, and samples. They missed something...as you later found. His experimental serum, made to cure the virus. But it is no matter. I won’t be needing that. Virgil, in all his hubris, left just enough behind for me to piece together the formula. And then my friends here did some alterations of their own.” He gestured at the other two figures, still hooded and masked.

“I wasn’t the only one who felt betrayed, who wanted vengeance. You killed our Director. He was a great man until you came along, poisoning his mind. Gaining his trust. Compromising the entire Institute. He thought _you_ would be the next Director, based on nothing other than your familial connection.” Ayo laughed bitterly. “He was a fool, in the end. When faced with his own mortality, he crumbled.”

“I suppose he, just as I did, only saw what he wanted to see. For a time, anyway.” Keirsten said quietly.

“Indeed. His misguided faith would end up costing us _everything_ . His refusal to listen to my security recommendations cost us losing Virgil, an important asset. An asset who would later become our downfall, when he chose to help _you_.”

“ _Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing_.” she quoted. “Words made famous by a man with more integrity in his pinky finger than you’ve got in your entire body, I’d reckon.”

Ayo’s smile was more like a frozen snarl. “Hold her,” he ordered, and abruptly the super mutant standing behind her gripped her by the arms, holding her still. Keirsten didn’t struggle. There was no point. She’d just marched through an army full of super mutants to get here. There was nowhere to go, no escape in sight. 

“I’m going to give you a little taste of what is in store for you,” Ayo said. “I want you to have something to think about in that little cell of yours. Come morning, it will be your turn to shine.”

He walked across the lab and opened a door on the far wall. 

“Bring him in,” he called.

Another super mutant entered the room, dragging a dazed and limp form behind him by the collar. Keirsten could see from the man’s apparel he was a Gunner, and looking much worse for wear. His face was purpled with bruises, his arms and legs shackled. The mutant dragged him over to the exam table, then lifted him up onto the surface with ease. One of Ayo’s _colleagues_ stepped in, undoing the shackles with the speed of nimble fingers and replacing them with the restraint cuffs. The Gunner’s eyes cracked open, and she saw his pupils trying to focus. 

“Where...what...where am I?” he groaned. Keirsten watched realization slowly dawn on him as he regained some alertness. He looked down at the restraints about his wrists, at the hooded figure in a lab coat beside him, at the two super mutants standing silently in the room, and then let out a shout of alarm. 

“Let me go!” he yelled, yanking at the restraint cuffs. “What the hell are you crazy fucks doing!?”

The hooded scientist picked up one of the syringes. The liquid within had a soft amber glow to it - an actual glow, slightly illuminating the fingers holding it.

“Keep him still,” a cool, smooth female voice instructed the mutant. A large arm reached out, pinning the Gunner’s right arm to the table. The Gunner let out a hoarse, panicked scream as the needle slid into his vein. He shuddered when the plunger was depressed, and the amber liquid entered his system.

Ayo had come around the table now, walking over to stand beside Keirsten. He watched the Gunner twist and writhe against his restraints.

“Virgil’s serum was ingenious. He was able to create an effect where the virus actually bypassed the frontal lobe entirely. Previous FEV strains have always affected the entire brain, throttling all higher brain function. It is why super mutants have always been so... _cognitively lacking_.” Ayo’s voice was soft and velvet. “We mimicked his alterations of the viral genome, but used the technique to add some things of our own. Our first goal was to create a more effective delivery system. On a large scale, immersion vats are simply not efficient enough. Once that was accomplished, we moved on to the next goal. In addition to bypassing the frontal lobe, we gave the virus another task. This new strain of FEV stimulates the amygdala, while overriding any regulatory response in the ventromedial hypothalamus. The effect is...spectacular. We have found the combination creates a mind that retains its relative intelligence, but the cascade effect of uncontrolled emotion, aggression, and rage makes for something far more interesting...And far more dangerous.”

Keirsten desperately tried to tune out the Gunner’s cries. “So, you’re going to...what...make a bigger and badder version of super mutants? I don’t really see the point.”

“We aren’t just improving upon them,” Ayo smiled. “When we are done with the Commonwealth, there will only _be_ super mutants.”

“You're going to...change _everyone_ ?” Keirsten was incredulous. Ayo’s eyes glittered with satisfaction at her horror. If the mutant hadn’t kept his tight hold on Keristen, she’d have lunged at Ayo just then. “The people of the Commonwealth are innocent. There are families. _Children_.”

Ayo tilted his head slightly. “If it is any consolation, the children would never survive the transformation. They will not live to become super mutants.”

“How could you do such a thing?” Keirsten choked, hating her voice for breaking.

“Nothing has changed,” Ayo replied. “Our plan had always been to eradicate mankind and replace them with better versions of themselves. The only part of the equation that has changed is what defines the _better_ version. You saw to that. You destroyed the one chance there was to set humanity’s wrongdoings right again. Humanity does not deserve to exist anymore. Much like the cockroach, they refused to die out. They crawled into the dark spaces of the earth and waited for the radiation to settle. The Commonwealth will be the first to be cleansed. Then we will set our sights to the horizon.”

Keirsten was distracted from Ayo’s words by the gurgling coming from the exam table. She turned her eyes back to the scene before her. The Gunner’s veins had begun to bulge out as his limbs stiffened and twisted. His face was screwed up in an expression of fear and terrible pain. Foam flecked his lips. Keirsten stared at the veins in his neck roping as though alive and independent of his nervous system. His entire body looked wrong, bloated. The coloring was changing. Keirsten thought back to a time during the war, when they’d had to cross a river with the bridge blown out. The water had been chest high on her, and she remembered being afraid she’d step wrong and be swallowed by the current. As she neared the shore, rifle held over her head to keep it dry, she’d seen it. A body, caught in the little swirling eddies around the base of the stone bridge and the bank. Pallid, crinkled skin. Sightless eyes bulging, a swollen tongue protruding from the mouth. She could not tell if the person had been male or female, old or young. It was too waterlogged to tell.

That is what the Gunner reminded her of now, swelling before her eyes as the foam bubbling from his lips replaced his ability to scream. The minutes ticked by as Keirsten was forced to look on. His struggling slowed as the change took him over, and when he’d stopped thrashing the hooded scientist released the buckles of the restraints - now straining against the considerably thicker wrists. The seams of the man’s clothing stretched to bursting, and as his chest expanded the straps of his harness creaked and snapped under the pressure. Within an hour, the unconscious form draped over the table was no longer human. He was larger than any super mutant Keirsten had ever seen, and she felt her knees trembling and begging her for leave to collapse. The huge hands clenching her arms were the only reason she was still standing.

“He will be out for some time,” Ayo broke the silence at last. “You may go back to your cell now. When the sun rises, you will embark on your new journey.” His shark-like grin sent fingers of ice crawling up Keirsten’s spine as her escort drug her back to her cell. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

They had been staked out on this roof for hours, watching the comings and goings of the super mutants infesting the medical center. It would seem they had found all the super mutants missing from the rest of Boston. They were here, crowding the halls. Making raider prisoners run for target practice. Fighting amongst each other. There was a turmoil to them, as though they were all waiting for something and the tension was building. Danse didn’t like it one bit. He’d nearly lost hope of finding anything of use from this vantage point, but when he caught movement on an otherwise empty floor, he’d followed it. His patience had paid off. He’d watched through the broken windows as first Keirsten and then her mutant guard had stepped off the elevator. He’d lost sight of her as they turned down a hall and were blocked from view, but... she was  _ here. _ She was alive. At this distance he couldn’t tell what kind of shape she was in, but from the way she moved she was clearly in pain. If they had hurt her… well, whether they did or not, they would die.

“Preston,” he said, setting his rifle down. “We are going to need a distraction. A big one. If we are going to have any chance at all of getting through that building, we need something to draw them out and away. At least most of them.”

“I’m not sure how much help my men will be. They won’t be able to get here very fast, and facing an army of mutants like that...we’re talking some serious casualties, Danse. They’d willingly give their lives for the General, but...I don’t want to ask them to.”

Danse shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not asking you for your Minutemen. Their hearts are in the right place, but they are not proper soldiers. I think it’s time you radioed the Brotherhood. With the Institute gone, their primary mission has become the extermination of super mutants. And they have the firepower for an operation like this.”

“Danse, if we do this… you’re putting yourself in danger. They’ll shoot you on sight. You know that.”

“No. You are going to specifically request they only draw the attention and fire away from the building. Tell them you have a covert squad of your own working to infiltrate the building and gather information, and the Brotherhood’s role is a support one only. Since they prefer to focus on strength rather than stealth, they will be amenable to your plan. I know these people, Preston. If you phrase it the right way, they will accept it.”

“You might be putting undue faith in my speech abilities,” Preston sighed. “But I will do my best.”

“You’ll want the AF95 frequency.”

Danse went back to watching through his scope. He heard Preston fiddling with his shoulder radio, turning the dial to the desired frequency.

“This is Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen. Does anyone read me?”

Static answered.

“I repeat, this is Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen. Please respond.”

A crackle, and then an authoritative voice came on. “Civilian, you have no business on this channel. Please get off this frequency immediately.”

“This is in regards to Paladin Ericsson.” 

Momentary silence. Then, “Stand by.”

They waited. Danse raised an eyebrow at Preston and he shrugged.

The radio crackled again. “This is Elder Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel. To whom am I speaking?” 

Preston heaved a sigh, and Danse hid a smile. “Preston Garvey of the Commonwealth Minutemen. I have a somewhat urgent request. We have a potential lead to investigate on Paladin Ericsson’s disappearance, but we need your assistance getting to it. It’s being guarded by a whole lot of super mutants.”

There was a long pause. Then, “I’m listening.”

  
  


-

“The second the firing starts, we are going to swing northeast and come around to the medical center from that side. The Brotherhood will be hitting from the West, giving us a window. Entering from the east is going to be our best bet for avoiding discovery.” He closed the last pouch on his tactical vest. They had decided to leave their suits of armor on the rooftop, pulling the fusion cores to prevent the unlikely event of theft. The plan was to go in quick and quiet, using stealth boys and silent kills as much as possible. If the alarm was sounded, the full force of super mutants might return, realizing they’d been had. Danse slid his enormous combat knife into its sheath at his ankle. To a mutant, it wasn’t much more than a letter opener… but it would do the job. 

“What’s the plan if one of us falls?” Preston asked grimly.

“If they kill me, you’ve got to press on. They have no way of knowing how many of us there are. Don’t try to save me or help me. The only thing that matters is getting her out of there.”

“I guess that answers the question of what if they get _ me.”  _ Preston laughed. 

“I guess it does,” Danse looked at Preston, feeling regretful. If he’d still had the Brotherhood backing him, this op would have been considerably easier. But instead, he had to drag Preston into this with him. If anything happened to Preston, Keirsten would be devastated. Maybe never forgive him. She would not appreciate them risking themselves to help her. She would prefer they were safe somewhere. That was the sort of woman she was.

Danse could hear the whir of vertibirds in the distance. It was time to get into position. He slid down the metal ladder, Preston following close behind. They stayed low as they moved through the streets, wending their way closer to their target. They were close now, only a couple buildings away from the medical center. The Brotherhood opened fire. Danse heard the confused yelling of super mutants and the laser fire of knights on the ground. The sentries posted around the front and side of the building alerted and took off running in the direction of the assault. It was time. Night was falling, the dim light of evening would only help them in their cause - hiding the two men as they silently ran to the east entrance.

The old glass and metal door was only a rusted frame now, with a few jagged pieces of the security glass remaining. Danse pulled it open, careful not to step on any of the glass and make noise. They crouched in the hall, listening, but it would seem the plan was working and the mutant population had run off to respond to the threat outside. Danse activated his Stealth Boy 3001 and Preston followed suit. They crept through the building, Danse following the old signs guiding them to the stairs. They could not take the elevator. It was too risky. He was glad he’d sent Dogmeat home. As useful as the dog was in a fight, he could not control the click of his nails on hard floors.

The door to the stairwell was ajar. Danse pushed it open a couple more inches, peering upward. He could see a shadow against the wall, higher up. There was a mutant in the stairwell - no doubt set there to guard. He held up a finger to Preston, mouthing the words  _ one on the stairs. _ Preston nodded. They carefully entered the stairwell and crept up the steps. The mutant was facing them, but completely absorbed in picking something out of one ear. Danse had been hoping for a flank attack, but that was out. He placed his boots cautiously, avoiding the debris littering the steps, and inched closer. Behind him, Danse heard the soft scuff of one of Preston’s feet, and froze. The mutant above them stopped digging at his ear and paused, listening, his eyes darting about the stairwell.

“Who’s there?” he rumbled. And then he was moving towards them, determined to investigate. Danse managed to squeeze against the wall as the mutant barreled down, and in one fluid motion he flipped the combat knife in his hand and buried it deep into the super mutant’s brain stem. The mutant fell, sprawled out on the steps, like a ton of bricks had been dropped. It was far more noise than Danse would have liked, and he crouched again - waiting for the sounds of a response. After a full minute had passed, Danse uncoiled and resumed the ascent. When they reached the door to the third floor, Danse held up his hand and pressed his ear to the door, listening. No movement. He dared to look through the small square window. He couldn’t see anything. He pulled the door open, craning his head this way and that. The floor appeared to be empty.

This felt...too easy, Danse thought, as they explored the floor - trying to retrace the path Danse had seen Keirsten and her guard take. Even with a firefight waging outside, they wouldn’t leave her entirely unguarded. Either they were walking into a trap, or the mutants really were that stupid. Based on what Danse had seen in Sanctuary, he was going to put his money on it being a trap. According to the signs, they were now approaching the Behavioral Health wing. There was a mutant guarding the entrance, leaning in the doorway and humming something to himself. Danse brought up his silenced .45 and put two rounds in the mutant’s skull. There was a reception area, and then a split hallway. To the left, according to the signs, was the clinic. To the right was the ‘residential wing.’ Danse chose to go right. That sounded like the most likely place for a prisoner to be held.

There was a series of offices, an open area that looked to have been a cafe at one point, and beyond it another hall lined with doors. Danse was so focused on the hallway lined with doors he nearly missed the thick, heavy length of pipe swinging down towards his head as he cleared the doorway into the cafeteria. He twisted his body out of the way just in time - the blow glancing off his shoulder instead, knocking his .45 skittering across the peeling laminate floor. His stealth field failed.  _ Stupid, _ he mentally scolded himself.  _ You know how to properly clear a corner.  _ A very large and particularly ugly mutant stood close to the wall, grinning at Danse as he dropped the pipe and raised a rifle instead. He wore a mishmash of armor - beaten metal scrap, wire, chains, straps. A necklace of what appeared to be human finger bones graced his thick neck. 

“Knew her friends would come,” the mutant declared. “Others said no, said nobody would find us. But I knew. Her kind always comes, always sticks their noses in mutant business. Crusher will handle it.”

Danse backed away from the mutant, his combat knife in hand - for all the good it would do now, as he stared down the muzzle of a pipe rifle. His back was to a series of large windows, allowing the fading sun to filter in through their broken panes. He had an idea. 

“I guess you’re not as stupid as other super mutants,” Danse jabbed. He needed to get this brute angry enough to charge. 

The super mutant laughed, showing teeth. “Crusher is smartest and strongest of the mutants.”

“You can’t be that strong if you need a rifle to take out one puny little human,” Danse sneered. “You couldn’t even hit me with that pipe.”

The look in Crusher’s eyes turned deadly as he pressed closer to Danse. “Crusher will make human eat his own eyes,” he growled. “Before Crusher cuts out his tongue.”

“Good luck trying,” Danse forced a laugh. The super mutant let out a bellow and charged for him, rifle tossed to the side and the large green hands outstretched. Danse dropped like a stone to the floor, and the mutant looked surprised but adjusted his angle as he rushed forward. When he was practically on top of Danse, Danse jammed his boots into the mutant’s stomach. Using the strength in his legs and the mutant’s own momentum, Danse sent him sailing in an arc over his prone form and through one of the large windows. Glass rained down around him as the mutant broke through the few remaining panes and hurtled to the ground below. There was a hard thud. Danse rose to his feet, shaking the glass from himself. The mutant lay still and did not get up.

“Holy shit,” Danse heard Preston whisper from wherever he was crouched, waiting. 

“Holy shit indeed,” Danse said. “There’s no way someone didn’t hear  _ that. _ We gotta move.” 

Danse retrieved his .45, and they continued to the corridor of doors. Each door was solid metal with a small viewing slot at eye level. They would have to check them all. They worked their way down quickly, peering through each slot and looking for some sign of Keirsten. Near the end of the row, Danse let out a shout. The room was growing dark, but Danse could see the shape of someone inside - lying on a cot. Preston rushed to his side and looked in. 

“Keirsten,” Danse whispered loudly. The figure stirred. “Keirsten, wake up, it’s us. Danse and Preston.” 

There was a mumble and movement, before the prisoner rose to their feet slowly and shuffled into the light. 

Keirsten looked terrible. Her nose was swollen and bent to one side. One eye was a myriad of purple and yellow hues. Her face was filthy with grime and old blood. Tear stains streaked clean pathways through the layers of dirt. Her leather jacket was badly burned, one sleeve all but destroyed. Dried blood caked her gray tee shirt. She moved slowly, painfully, and Danse was afraid of what might have been damaged internally. For all he knew, there was active internal bleeding from injuries sustained in the crash.

“Danse? Preston?” Her eyes flicked between them as she looked through the slot. Her voice was hoarse. “What are you  _ doing _ ? You could be  _ killed _ .”

“So could you,” Danse said, somewhat more severely than he meant to. Seeing her like this was enormously distressing. “And if we don’t get you out of here quickly, that is exactly what will happen. To all of us.”

Danse pulled the heavy steel latch of the door clear, and swung the door open. Keirsten took one look at him standing before her and fell into him, sobbing. He wrapped her up in his arms gently, holding her for only a few seconds before extricating himself. Preston had moved to the end of the hall, and using the butt of his rifle, broke the window. It was big enough. It would hold. Danse stood guard while Preston anchored the ropes. They could still hear the Brotherhood giving the mutants hell. Good. They’d be busy while the three made their escape. Danse looked over at Keirsten again. She was cradling her ribs, her face haggard with pain. Danse slid his pack from his shoulders, rustling around in it until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the stimpack free and went over to her. When she saw what he was holding, her eyes flooded with relief. She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself while he injected the stim. 

“Good hell, that’s bliss,” she said as the stim began to relieve the worst of the pain. “I broke a few ribs when I was launched from the vertibird. It’s been hurting something fierce. Hard to breath.” 

Before he could stop himself, Danse reached out and tenderly stroked her wild hair from where it hung over her face - tucking it behind one ear. She smiled at him, her chin trembling a little, and he withdrew and resumed watching for any signs of movement. He could hear shouting now, and feet stomping loudly somewhere on their floor.

“Preston, tell me you’re almost done,” he groaned.

“Just finished. We’re ready.” 

Danse pulled his pack back on and went over to the window, clipping the rope to his harness. He held a hand out to Keirsten. “Ready?”

She came to him, and he wrapped an arm around her tightly. This time, she didn’t flinch at the pain. The stimpack was doing its job.

“Are you able to hold on?” he asked. She nodded in affirmation. Danse looked over at Preston. “You go first. If they are waiting for us on the ground, I’ll need you to provide cover fire while we descend.” 

Preston climbed up into the window sill, lowering himself carefully until the line was taut and his feet here placed solidly against the outer brick wall. 

“See you at the bottom,” he said, and then began rappelling down. Danse took position next. Keirsten wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and even with the danger at hand he felt a rush of warmth at the contact. His mind flashed back to a memory of a time where he’d held her in a similar embrace, and he shook his head, clearing his mind. Now was definitely not the time for such thoughts. He might have been made in a laboratory, but his body’s response to her was human enough.

The shouting was very close now. Danse began his descent, leaping out from the building and pushing off with another leap each time he made contact again. Below, he heard Preston shout something and start firing. Danse looked up and saw a super mutant’s head looking down at them from the window, great hands reaching for the line, before the head exploded into red pulp.  _ Good shot, Preston _ . Keirsten shuddered against him, face buried in his neck. 

He heard a voice - a human voice - yelling from the hallway they’d just come from. “ _ Do not let her get away, you idiots!” _

Another leap, then another, and his boots were touching earth. Preston was returning fire as a dozen mutants closed in around them, using a dumpster for cover. Danse set Keirsten down behind the dumpster next to Preston. The rope dangling down moved. One of the mutants had crawled through the window and was attempting - rather ungracefully - to climb down after them. Another waited in the window for his turn to climb down too. Danse opened fire on the mutants climbing down while Preston fired again and again at the ground assailants. 

“There’s too many of them,” he yelled at Danse. “We can’t move like this.”

“I see that, Preston,” Danse shouted back as another mutant fell to the ground at his feet, dead. Every moment that passed meant more mutants sounding the alarm and converging on their location. They were pinned down. Danse joined the other two against the dumpster. He looked down at Keirsten. Her eyes were wide as bullets peppered the wall around them. 

“Danse,” she shouted over the sound of gunfire. “Don’t let them take me. Do  _ whatever you have to do _ , but don’t let them take me again.  _ Please. _ ” 

He stared at her. He couldn’t - no,  _ wouldn’t _ \- grasp what she was asking him to do. She couldn’t ask that of him, not knowing his history. Knowing the burden he carried in his heart over Cutler. But looking into her eyes and seeing the fear there...She  _ was  _ asking it of him. Whatever awaited her back in that medical center was worse than death. He knew if it came to that, if he had to pull the trigger on her...there was no way he could continue living. Not after committing such an atrocity. Nor could he ignore her plea. She was trusting him with this, and he would do whatever she needed of him. It was the least he could do for her, after all the things she had sacrificed and risked for him.

“You have my word. I won’t let them take you.” He promised through gritted teeth.  _ But damned if i’m going to do it without giving them all the hell I can muster,  _ he finished silently. Her body sagged with relief as she leaned against the dumpster for support. Preston was still firing away, and Danse resumed the effort. The mutants were gaining ground, and the only thing between them and the humans was a dumpster that had seen much better days. At one point Danse froze. Over the din, he heard a beeping.  _ Shit.  _ He dared a look around the edge of their cover. In the dim light, he could see a telltale flashing red light.

“ _ Suicider _ _!_ ” He bellowed. “Focus fire!” 

The super mutants doubled their effort, laying down so much cover fire for the suicider it was all Preston and Danse could do to get some blind shots in. Danse felt a small sense of relief. The suicider would kill them all, sparing him the task Keirsten had assigned him as well as figuring out how to end himself. A massive  _ boom _ shook the ground, and orange light bathed the surrounding area for a moment as the suicider’s mini nuke exploded early with a deafening roar. Pieces of super mutant rained all about them. Before Danse could check to see what had happened, laser fire began raining down on the super mutants all around them. The creatures howled in rage, seeking the source of the barrage. 

Danse and Preston took advantage of the mystery assist and opened fire again in earnest. Keirsten, seeming to be slowly regaining herself, picked up a dead mutant’s rifle and helped. Despite the condition she was in, she was still a crack shot and Danse felt pride tighten his throat. Slowly but surely, the mutants stopped returning fire. Danse counted six lying on the ground around him, fallen from the window and their attempts to climb. A dozen more littered the ground around them - not counting the suicider and any he had taken out with him in the explosion. The way was clear.

“Can you run?” He asked Keirsten. She was swaying on her feet, her face as white as a sheet. Danse didn’t wait for her reply. He swooped her up in his arms and took off at a jog. He needed to get as much distance between them and this place as possible. Down the street from them, two figures stood. They were backlit by the rising moon, but Danse would know those silhouettes anywhere. Rhys. Haylen. He slowed to a walk and then stopped, about 15 feet away.

“We had a feeling you’d be involved in this,” Haylen said.

Danse felt uneasy. Haylen had saved his life once, at great risk to herself. She’d been the one to tip him off about the Institute holotape containing information on his true identity. If it weren’t for her, he’d be dead somewhere in the glowing sea. Her help had given him a chance to escape, and then she had told Keirsten where to find him. Technically, if you counted Keirsten’s silver tongue diffusing Maxson, Haylen was responsible for saving his life twice. But now she was here with Rhys. He hoped he could trust Rhys like he knew he could trust Haylen. 

“It’s been a long time, sir.” Rhys said, saluting out of habit. Danse felt himself relax a little at that. Rhys, like Danse, was ferociously dedicated. But he was also a good man, and loyal to those who earned it.

“We’re going to escort you to Goodneighbor. You should be safe there.” Haylen informed him. 

“Won’t you be missed?” Danse asked. “I don’t want the Brotherhood getting wind that you helped me. They’ll bring you both up on charges.”

“We already radioed in and told them we were chasing down a few mutants that were high-tailing it out of here. They won’t miss us.” 

Danse looked down at Keirsten, limp and tired in his arms. “Let’s go. She needs proper medical attention. The stimpack can only do so much.” 

With a nod, Haylen and Rhys turned, and the group headed towards Goodneighbor at a slow run.


	6. Chapter 6

Keirsten woke to sunlight pouring over her, and for a moment she thought she was back in her cell, the light coming from the tiny window at the top of the room. But as she sat up and reoriented herself, she saw she was lying in an enormous king sized bed with a wrought iron frame. A thick patchwork quilt covered her. She looked around the room. There was a dresser covered in Gwinnett Stout bottles, an armchair by the window with an ashtray balanced on the arm, and various articles of clothing - men’s and women’s, from the looks of it - scattered about the floor. Was she in a  _ brothel?  _ She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The pain in her ribs was gone. They must have given her the good stuff. She touched her nose carefully - and found it was straight again. She somewhat remembered the doctor, the pain medication, being carried to bed. The night had been a blur after her rescue. Danse and Preston had pulled her out of that cell. Had  _ saved _ her. Even in her most hopeless moment, she had known deep down they would. She wanted to be angry with them, but she was so damn relieved to be _ alive _ . Not just alive...she was still herself. She was still Keirsten. She’d resigned herself to her fate, consoling herself with the thought that once she  _ was  _ a mutant she wouldn’t much care about her life before. But as a mutant - and not just any mutant, but one of the new horrors Ayo’s people had created - she’d likely have gleefully killed all the people she loved without a second thought. Was there anything worse than losing your own humanity like that?

She stood carefully, testing her strength. Her legs felt steady if not a little weak still. She’d had two cans of cram and one can of water over the course of her three day imprisonment. She had some catching up to do. She found she was absolutely starving. What she wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger and fries right now. Ohh, and a  _ milkshake _ . Strawberry. Her mouth was watering. She wondered if she was alone, wherever she was, or if the others were waiting for her somewhere.

She looked down and realized she was wearing only a button-up shirt, far too large for her despite her rounder frame. It fell to mid-thigh on her. Her Swedish heritage had given her more than strong cheekbones. Despite her shorter stature, Keirsten had wide shoulders, a broad ribcage, and thickly built hips and thighs. She cast a dubious eye over the piles of clothes on the floor, and went to the dresser instead. She found a pair of clean black slacks, and pulled them on underneath the shirt. She had to roll the cuffs of them twice over before they stopped dragging on the ground. She tied the tails of the shirt in a knot, which helped with the fit of it. Her task done, she opened the bedroom door to pursue sustenance.

Danse fell into the room. He had clearly been asleep against the door, and the way he bounded awake in alarm made Keirsten laugh out loud. She held out her hand to assist him, and he took it and climbed to his feet.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know.” He growled, his eyes betraying mirth.

“I didn’t realize I had a guest,” she was smiling for the first time in days. She was so happy to see him she wanted to fling her arms around his neck and squeal like a teenager at a concert, but she didn’t. She’d terrorized him enough for one morning. “Where  _ are _ we?” she gestured around her.

Danse grimaced in distaste. “Hancock’s place. This is  _ his  _ bedroom. He insisted it was the safest place in Goodneighbor. He apparently could not be bothered to deal with the... _ disarray _ .” Danse’s eyes were roaming over the clothing on the floor with extreme disapproval. 

“Well, honestly, knowing who’s room it is really explains a lot.” Keirsten shrugged and chuckled. “I don’t suppose Hancock has any food lying around?”

“I am sure he does. Let’s go downstairs and find out. Are you able to take the stairs?” Danse’s eyes took on their usual worry over her.

“I believe so, Prince Charming. But to be safe let’s see that big arm of yours for balance.” She didn’t miss the subtle flush in his cheeks. He always got a little pink when she said something flirtatious.

Holding onto him for support, Keirsten made her way downstairs to the kitchen. The fridge had a handful of things in it. There was a jug of Brahmin milk, and a box of sugar bombs atop the fridge. Cereal and milk for breakfast, why not. She poured herself a bowl and sat down at the table. Danse sat across from her, watching her every movement as though she would break. Had he always been this paranoid? She supposed losing her to a pack of super mutants had been nearly as rough for him as  _ being  _ their prisoner had been for her. She set her spoon down and reached out, placing her hand over his own.

“Danse, I’m fine. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He looked surprised. He hadn’t realized he was doing it.

“Looking at me like the world is ending.”  _ Well, _ she thought, remembering.  _ Come to think of it, it just might be.  _

He dropped his eyes. She rubbed his hand soothingly with her thumb and continued.

“I know this must have been a terrible ordeal for you. Like living through what happened to Cutler all over again. But you rescued me, and I’m here now.”

“Keirsten,” Danse said, looking up at her with his brow knit and his eyes deeply troubled. “There is something you should know.” 

She cocked her head at him and waited.

“Before the attack, before the mutants took you… You’d gone to see Curie about feeling unwell.”

The way he was saying the words, the look on his face, put her on edge. This couldn’t be good. He was acting like someone about to drop some terrible news. Her thumb stopped its movement and she held her breath, waiting for the blow.

“Curie told me...You’re not sick.”

“ _ Danse _ , for the love of Saint Pete, if you don’t tell me what’s bugging you I will dump this cereal over your head.” Keirsten meant every word. This feeling of leaping out of the pan and into the fire wasn’t helping her nerves.

“She said you’re pregnant,” he blurted out.

Keirsten stared at him, completely stunned. “I don’t understand. It was only once...and I thought you couldn’t...I thought you didn’t…”

“It’s not mine,” his voice softened, and now he was holding  _ her  _ hand. “She said you were roughly 19 weeks along.”

Keirsten did the math in her head for a moment, and then realization dawned on her. She suddenly felt like she’d stepped into a deep freeze. She was cold all over.

“No. It can’t be. Danse, _ it can’t be. _ ” She stood suddenly, jostling the table violently with the force of it and spilling the milk and cereal everywhere. Danse made no move to mitigate the spill. His eyes were fixed on her as she went through a range of emotions. Denial, then anger, then a sorrow so debilitating it nearly brought her to her knees. She covered her mouth with both her hands to stifle the wail that tore its way from the deepest part of her. This whole time, she’d thought she was sick. There was so much radiation here, so much contaminated food and water. And with the stress on her mind and body, and the grief she’d been wrestling all these months...she’d never thought about any other possibility. It had been the last culprit she’d suspect. She’d always had a little extra meat to her. It had hidden her surprise pregnancy well. Too well.

Keirsten closed her eyes. She knew exactly when it had happened. It was the day they’d talked about the big D. Divorce. They’d fought continuously since Shaun was born. Her postpartum depression and Nate’s quick temper were catalysts for a rapidly spiraling situation. It had gotten ugly. She wasn’t blameless in it, nor was Nate. They’d married far too quickly and conceived Shaun less than a year into their marriage. After the Big Talk, they’d decided they couldn’t do it. They didn’t want to portion out time with Shaun to each other. They’d vowed to make it work, whatever it took. And then they’d had each other right there on the kitchen table. It had been wild and spontaneous, just like in the beginning. It had cemented their love again...Just in time for the bombs to fall a week later and destroy everything.

Arms wrapped around her, and she realized dimly that she was still wailing into her hands. She buried her face in Danse’s sweater, balled her fists up in the fabric of it, and sobbed like a woman who’s heart had been broken over and over and over. He held her with the tight ferocity she needed, and didn’t move a muscle until she’d gotten the worst of it out and her crying slowed to little hiccups. 

She pulled away from him then, laughing a bitter little laugh through her tears as she wiped at her eyes.

“I have never been the religious type, but I suddenly get it.. Because right now it feels like some big jerk in the sky is playing a really cruel joke on me. My entire world was blown up, in the literal sense. I woke up from a 200 year long nap to a dead husband and my baby stolen from me. I end up forced to leave my own son to die in a fiery nuclear blast, and  _ then…  _ the frosting on the cake, I find out I’m pregnant with my dead husband’s child. This is like...a Shakespearian play. I don’t want to be in it anymore.”

Danse said nothing, only rubbed her arms. She looked up at him, tears bejeweling her lashes and trailing down her cheeks.

“Danse, what am I supposed to  _ do  _ with this information?”

“I wish I could say something that would make it easier,” Danse said desperately. “But I know I can’t offer anything to mend the pain you’re feeling right now.”

“It’s...okay. It’s just a lot. Especially right now. We are facing a terrible threat, and... I need to be the strongest I can be, for my people. And now I’ve got a baby to worry about protecting.”

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?” His voice was gentle. He framed her face with his large hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She nodded, her eyes closed, leaning into his touch. 

“Let’s sit down, please. I feel a little lightheaded.”

Danse guided her to the couch, and she eased herself into the old cushions. Danse sat beside her, and she took his hand - holding it between hers, on her lap.

“Justin Ayo is alive,” she began. Danse’s brows flew up in surprise at that. “He, and a couple other like-minded Institute survivors, have taken it upon themselves to continue the Institute’s good work. They...took Virgil’s FEV recipe and changed it. They bastardized his technology and made a much worse strain with it. I’m not a doctor, but … basically the gist of it is bigger, meaner, smarter, and far more aggressive super mutants. And they are planning to infect the entire commonwealth.”

“How are they planning to do that? Hard to convince everyone to take a quick dip in a tank of green goo.” 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But they have changed the delivery system. They made me watch as they transformed someone. They injected him with a syringe. Within an hour, he’d changed. They made me watch the entire transformation. Ayo said…” Her throat constricted at the words. “Ayo said I was next. He said all this...was for me. They’d made their special strain of FEV for me. I was to be the first of many. They tested it on who knows how many people, before it was ready.” Her breathing was shaky.

“I should have killed that little worm when I had the chance,” Danse snarled.

“Danse, I don’t know how they are planning to do it… but they are ready. They might have lost their poster girl for their big launch, but that doesn’t mean we are safe. If anything, Ayo is even angrier now. He will want his revenge. Doubly so.” 

“Preston received reports from the Brotherhood. After you were taken, the super mutants fled that building. They cleared out the lab. There were no notes, no samples, nothing. It was cleared out. All the Brotherhood soldiers found was a pile of bodies in the basement.”

“We need to go to the glowing sea,” Keirsten replied firmly. “We need to go to Virgil about this. He is the only one who has even a hope of making a cure for this new strain of FEV. If we fail to stop Ayo and his people...If they succeed in their plan...We could be looking at the end of humanity. The real kind of end, not just… replaced by synths.”

“You should not be anywhere near the glowing sea in your condition,” Danse protested. “Curie would absolutely not stand for such a thing.” 

“I will wear a biohazard suit,” Keirsten snapped. “Baby or no baby, I am not going to sit idly by while Ayo turns thousands of innocent people into nightmares.” 

Danse huffed in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. He’d never been able to convince Keirsten to do anything once her mind was made up, and he didn’t expect that would change now.

“How did you find me?” she asked after a moment. “How did you know where to look?” 

Danse stopped worrying his hair and looked at her. “Your friend Strong tipped us off. We were combing through Boston looking for clues. He approached us outside of Trinity Tower. He wouldn’t go with us to break you out. Said he couldn’t betray his people. But he told us he respected you. That you were a great warrior. He couldn’t leave you to a fate like that.”

A smile touched her lips at that. “Strong, huh? I never would have expected that. I honestly thought he hated me for being a big softie.”

“Maybe deep down he likes you for the same reason we all do.  _ Because _ you’re a big softie.” 

“Danse, there’s...something I want to say to you, too.”

“I hope _ I’m _ not pregnant.”

She burst out laughing, the laugh he loved best. High and clear and...  _ happy _ .

“Well, if you are, it’s definitely not mine. And that’s a whole ‘nother talk in and of itself.” She was grinning, but her face slowly stilled and her eyes became serious. “When I was sitting in that cell, waiting to be eaten by super mutants or hung by my gizzard from the ceiling, or stuck full of FEV and left to wake up a big green idiot… There was one thought running through my mind, over and over.” 

“And what was that?”

“I kept...regretting the way we’d left things. That night, after...Maxson.” His face pinked up again, and she suppressed a little smile at it. It was so endearing, his awkwardness. “I pulled you into something without really considering how you might feel about it, or how it would affect you. And after, when I withdrew into myself and you were so  _ kind _ to me...You deserved better. I lay in that cell for three days, wanting to tell you how sorry I was for that.” 

“You didn’t pull me into something I didn’t want to be pulled into,” Danse said quietly. Keirsten met his eyes, and the molten warmth there made  _ her  _ cheeks redden. 

“I have just been so afraid that you felt as though I’d used you. I think maybe that night, I might have. I can’t tell you how guilty I feel about it. Whatever was going through my mind that night... the feelings I have for you  _ are  _ genuine.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You have feelings for me, do you?” 

He was teasing her, poking at her a little, but gently. He was enjoying making her squirm a little bit.  _ Fair’s fair,  _ Keirsten thought bemusedly.

“We should get going,” she said, switching tracks. Her face was positively flaming. “I’ve got a lot of calls to make.” 

“Not yet,” Danse said firmly. “First, we’re going to pour you another bowl of cereal. You don’t get to play General until you’ve eaten something.” 

**  
  
**

-

****  
  


“Danse,  _ tell me _ you’re not letting her go through with this. We  _ just  _ pulled her out of the middle of a super mutant army.” Preston was angry. It was probably the first time Danse had ever seen the mild-mannered Minuteman actually worked up. Even in a fight, Preston wasn’t one to raise his voice. 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, Preston,” Keirsten spoke up, placing her hands on her hips. “Danse doesn’t have a say in this any more than you do.”

Danse smiled to himself. She was back to her old self, for the most part. Typically indomitable. She looked a far sight better now. The stimpacks and Med-X had taken care of the bruising and the doctor had been able to straighten her nose. The bone was still healing, as were her ribs, but in a few days it would be as though they’d never been broken. Her hair, the exact color of dark honey, rippled down her back - clean again and brushed until it shone. Her eyes, a bright silvery azure blue, flashed with indignance at Preston. Danse was relieved he wasn’t the target of that look. She was absolutely fearsome.

“The glowing sea isn’t a stroll through a quiet park,” Preston balked. “What happens if you get killed out there? You’re not at full strength, Keirsten. Are you prepared to fight a deathclaw? What about a nest of radscorpions?” 

“Virgil won’t talk to you like he will to me. Assuming he will even speak to me at all, considering I blew up the Institute. I understand you want to protect me, Preston. But stopping me from doing my job - from protecting the people of the Commonwealth - is only going to get people hurt.” 

“Then we are coming with you,” Preston threw up his hands. “I will no more stand idly by than you will.” 

“Deal. You and Danse can shoot all the icky things and I’ll just walk. That’s it. Okay?” 

“Walking  _ only. _ ” Preston groused.

Keirsten had spent the morning speaking with first the Brotherhood and then the Railroad, to warn them about the impending threat. Preston had briefed Ronnie Shaw on the situation. Ronnie was overseeing things while Preston and Keirsten were away. Without any knowledge on how the virus would be distributed, there was no way to tell them  _ what  _ to watch out for. The hope was that with everyone on high alert, maybe the plan would out itself before they hit crisis. There were very few people alive in the Commonwealth that knew anything about FEV. Fewer still who knew anything about manipulating it. With few options, finding Virgil was absolutely crucial.

The trio set out at midday. The Brotherhood had offered a vertibird, but Keirsten had gone white at the suggestion. Danse couldn’t blame her, after the ordeal she’d gone through following the last ride. She led the way, with Danse and Preston flanking her - an anxious guard, hovering a little too close. Danse was sure Preston felt the same way he did - like Keirsten was fragile and might break easily. If she knew they were thinking such things, she’d knock their heads together.

It was strange, crossing through the Commonwealth and not running into any super mutants. The landscape was quiet, and other than a few raiders trying to extort a ‘travel tax’ out of them and a pack of feral dogs, they didn’t run into much trouble. As they neared the border of the glowing sea and Keirsten’s geiger counter began to ping, Danse insisted they stop so she could suit up. Danse was in his power armor, and Preston was in Keirsten’s. She avoided power armor like the plague, and preferred the lighter biohazard suits. She grumbled as she stepped into the shiny suit, buckling the helmet at the back. 

The glowing sea was considerably more eventful. While there were blessedly no deathclaws in their path, there was no shortage of ghouls, blood bugs, radscorpions, and glowing mole rats. Danse and Preston made short work of most of the creatures - though some of the larger radscorpions proved to be tougher. Keirsten hung back, as she promised she would. Danse kept one eye on her at all times. She had a tendency to jump into the thick of things when it looked like her help was needed.

Danse had never been to Virgil’s hideout. When Keirsten had made her previous treks out here, Danse had still been part of the Brotherhood - and understandably, she hadn’t been sure she could trust him. They passed the corpse of a glowing deathclaw - half-rotted, still glowing - outside the cave. 

“Keirsten, was this your doing?” He pointed at the remains. She shrugged, grinning inside the bubble. Danse was incredulous. She’d fought a deathclaw - and won - by  _ herself _ ? Such a thing was what had won Elder Maxson all the admiration given to him. Not to mention the fact it had nearly  _ killed _ him, and he was scarred for life to prove it. 

Inside the cave, the path declined steeply. There were turrets in the anterior, but they did not fire. As they entered the second doorway, a protectron marched past them - and then Dr Brian Virgil raised his head from his worktable. He looked concerned, but when he recognized Keirsten, his face tightened. He grabbed an Institute rifle from where it leaned against a wall, and approached them - rifle raised. Danse was ready to fire, but Keisten shot him a halting glance before raising her hands carefully to show her peaceful intentions.

Keirsten had told Danse about how Virgil transformed himself into a super mutant to escape the Institute, and later helped cure him by retrieving the experimental serum from his old laboratory. Even knowing this, Danse had half-expected a super mutant to greet them. Or at least a very large man. Virgil was a slight, pale man with a headful of thick, dark hair. Now that he wasn’t a mutant, and had hair again - he looked badly in need of a shave. 

“The Institute signal hasn’t been coming in for weeks,” Virgil said, the rifle in his hand wavering as he trained it on Keirsten. “Something terrible has happened, hasn’t it.” 

“I’m sorry, Virgil. I did what was necessary. I had to protect the people of the Commonwealth.” 

“I know the Institute committed its share of atrocities, but.. _.All those people. _ ” His voice shook, cracked, and Danse stiffened as the man’s figure tightened around the trigger. “I think you should go now.”

“All those people got out. Or, most of them. There were a couple that wouldn’t go, and fought us. But nearly all of them were given passage out of there before we pushed the button.” Her voice was calm. Soothing. “I swear to you, Virgil. I helped everyone I could.”

Virgil appeared to consider this, and lowered his rifle a little. Danse remained vigilant, ready to draw and fire the second the twitchy little man made a move.

“If they are gone, then why are you here? What could you possibly want with me?” Virgil demanded sharply.

“Virgil, when you escaped the Institute...You left some things behind. Research notes. Logs. Samples. Those things are in some very dangerous hands now.” 

“No, I...destroyed everything.” Virgil looked puzzled, then horror dawned on him. “The  _ wall safe _ ,” he whispered. “I forgot about the wall safe. I kept a backup of everything. In case they caught on to me, in case I needed it. Ayo had his Coursers everywhere, interrogating us. Watching us. Scanning our terminals, logging all our activity.”

“Justin Ayo is alive,” Keirsten said carefully. “He is the one who has all that information right now. And he plans to use it.”

“Use it how?” Virgil looked deeply unsettled.

“He has changed your formula. He said like yours, it would bypass the frontal lobe and preserve the intelligence. But it also targets the part of the brain that controls aggression and emotions. I don’t really understand everything he said, but...we are talking super mutants that are bigger and much worse than the standard fare. They plan to change  _ everyone.  _ Not just in the commonwealth, either. We’re the test pool. If they succeed here, they will move to other areas.”

“That’s simply not feasible,” Virgil scoffed. “They can’t immerse every individual in FEV.”

“He said they had sorted out the delivery method. I watched them inject someone with a glowing formula in a syringe, and the man changed right before my eyes.” 

Virgil lowered the rifle entirely, and it hung in his grip limply. “No. That’s impossible.” 

Keirsten shrugged. “I saw it happen, Virgil.”

As the two continued talking, Danse thought about his time in the Brotherhood. It was this exact sort of thing that the Brotherhood was right about - technology in the hands of men was dangerous. Each time man tried to play god, the ripples of those actions carried over for generations. The Institute’s dabbling in FEV experimentation had led up to this. Once again, technology had fallen into dangerous hands. Once again, the fate of humanity hung in the balance as a consequence. Keirsten disapproved of the Brotherhood’s creed, and Danse could understand that. She saw synths as people. Saw  _ him _ as a person. But if she had entrusted the fate of the Institute to the Brotherhood, they would have done what was necessary. None of them would be standing here now, facing annihilation. The Brotherhood would never have let those scientists go free. Ayo’s remains would be buried with the Institute. She had stayed her hand and showed mercy. That mercy would be their ultimate downfall. 

He knew all this. But his feelings for Keirsten and his altered view of himself weakened his resolve. Whatever lay in store for them, he would have her back.

“...I want to help however I can,” Virgil was saying. “But without a sample of the thing I am trying to cure, I do not know how I can be of any use.” 

“If we were able to find you either a sample or a subject infected with it, do you think you could formulate a cure?”

“I would say there is a 50% chance of probability that I could.” Virgil sighed. “It took me quite some time to formulate the cure for the strain I exposed myself to, and I am lucky it even worked. It was entirely experimental, and was just as likely to kill me as it was to cure me.” 

“50% is a better odd than 0%,” Keirsten pointed out. “Listen, ideally, we figure out what they are up to in time and we put a stop to this. But if we don’t, we are talking about mass casualties and the end of everything. Unless  _ you _ can do something to reverse it. You are the only man in the entire Commonwealth who is capable of doing this, Virgil.”

The man’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “You sure know how to put the pressure on,” he grimaced. “Whatever my protests, understand they are not born of reluctance. I merely want to impress upon you how daunting this task is. I cannot say anything to offer hope, where I have none myself. Of course I will try to help you. But a sample I can work with is the fulcrum of this entire endeavor.” 

Danse watched Keirsten chew her lip in thought for a moment. Then something dawned in her eyes, and she whirled to face him.

“Danse,” she breathed. “What was it you told me about the Brotherhood combing over the Mass Bay Medical Center?”

“I said they didn’t find anything,” he replied. “The lab was cleared out. All they found was a pile of bodies in the basement.”

“ _ A pile of bodies! _ ” she shouted, making everyone jump. She turned back to Virgil. “Virgil, they told me they had tested the virus on subjects before me. They wanted to perfect the formula. They said many of the subjects had died. Would a sample of the virus from a corpse be viable enough for your research?”

Virgil frowned, thinking. “Normally, no. Viruses are by nature parasitic. They progenate by the contamination of living cells, and spreading to other biological lifeforms. When the host dies, typically the virus dies as well. Some viruses might survive a day or two post-mortem, but not much longer than that.” 

Danse cursed under his breath. By the time they traversed back to that building, obtained a sample, and returned it to Virgil it would likely be too late.

“You said the syringe they used...glowed?” Virgil mused.

“Yes,” Keirsten replied. “It was an amber colored liquid, and glowed. It looked a little like some of the pools you see in the bad parts of the glowing sea.”

“Fascinating,” Virgil murmured. “It would seem Ayo’s people have introduced a radioactive element to their formula. No doubt as a way to preserve and sustain the viral lifespan and ensure continued contamination. Much like the ghouls of the wasteland are forever preserved in their hideous state, the virus would have a lifespan equal to a radioactive isotope. This tells us two things. Firstly, if I am correct, the virus in those bodies is very much alive and well despite the death of the hosts. Secondly, I think we have established the delivery method. Because the virus is itself radioactive, and unharmed by such a state, it could survive anything. Even, say, a nuclear blast. I think Ayo plans to bomb the commonwealth, and let the radioactive fallout carry the virus far and wide.”

“Shit,” Danse swore aloud. “He’s got an army of mutants willing to strap a bomb to themselves and commit suicide.” He was horrified at what he was hearing. The two turned to look at him for a moment, and returned to their discussion.

“I am not going to allow myself any optimism,” Virgil cautioned. “But I think...I can work with this. We will need all of the bodies. It is likely each of them was infected with a slightly different strain, as Ayo’s people worked out the kinks. I need as large of a sample pool as I can get. There is also the matter of a lab. I will need better equipment, and I would like to avoid having a pile of corpses in this already-cramped cave.”

“Come to the Castle,” Keirsten suggested. “Curie has built quite the clinic in the basement. I think you’ll find a lot of what you need is already there. Curie can assist you, as well. She’s a bit of an expert on pathogens.” 

Virgil nodded. “Excellent. We must leave at once. Let me pack some items and suit up.”

Virgil went off to prepare, and Keirsten turned to Danse and Preston. “Preston, contact the Castle. Tell them we are coming and have Curie prepare for Virgil’s arrival. Then have them dispatch a team to retrieve those bodies at Mass Bay immediately.” Preston nodded and retreated to a quiet corner to make contact. Keirsten turned to Danse.

“Danse. Do you know if the Brotherhood cleared out Sentinel Site Prescott site entirely?”

He nodded. “They left nothing behind. They transferred the entire payload to the Boston airport. They wanted to have any reloads needed for Liberty Prime ready at hand. If you’re thinking what I think you are…” His stomach twisted.

“I think I know where all our super mutants are going to go next,” she said grimly. “I’ve got to warn the Brotherhood.” 

The Liberty Prime project had never been finished. After Danse’s falling out with the Brotherhood, Keirsten had resolved to utilize the Minutemen to bring about the end of the Institute. She’d told Danse she did not trust the Brotherhood, and refused to have a bloodbath on her hands. Danse had been disappointed in her decision, but it wasn’t his call to make. He’d been at her side when they stormed the Institute with the Minutemen. She was right, of course. The Brotherhood would have slain any man or machine they encountered. As far as the Brotherhood was concerned, the scientists were as much in need of being put down as their machines were. It was the only way to end the cycle. While the Brotherhood was a force to be reckoned with, even they would be hard-pressed to fend off an attack of nearly every super mutant in the Commonwealth. 

With Liberty Prime unfinished and thus unable to defend the airport...they would be sitting ducks waiting for a slaughter. And then the mutants would have their hands on a full nuclear arsenal, ready to be weaponized with the virus.  _ Shit. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone dies. You've been warned. :B  
> \---

It was exactly as Keirsten had feared. After making radio contact, she learned the airport was under attack. They’d been fighting off wave after wave of super mutant for hours, but the creatures had kept coming. Keirsten knew she had to get over there, and fast.

_“We’ve got a team in your area..._ [crackle] _to report back and provide support,_ ” Kells’ voice came back to her, static creating some interference. _“They can give you a ride back to…_ [crackle] _airport. Meet them at these coordinates...”_ Keirsten scribbled down the coordinates as Kells read them to her. She pulled them up on her pip boy. The coordinates would take her to the edge of the glowing sea, in the direction of Fort Hagen. She could manage that, and make good time getting there. She stuffed the paper in her breast pocket and turned around. Danse and Preston stood there, arms folded like stubborn twins.

“You are _not_ going to the airport.” Danse stated flatly.

“Yes, I am. They’re in trouble and it’s all hands on deck right now.”

“I knew this would happen,” Preston groaned. “First it’s _‘I’m_ _just walking through the glowing sea, Preston. Only walking.’_ And then it’s wading into an all-out war against super mutants, with a huge building full of nuclear bombs as a backdrop.” 

“Lives are at stake,” Keirsten dug in her heels. “Brotherhood or not, there are good and honorable men and women out there, _dying_ as we speak, because of a choice I made. I will do everything in my power to make this right. Even if that means putting myself at risk.” 

She shoved past the two of them, towards the cave entrance. “Danse, you can’t come with us. You know why. I need you to make sure Virgil gets back to the Castle safely. I can’t risk anything happening to him. His work is far too valuable to jeopardize it or delay it another second.”

The muscles in his jaw worked angrily. Keirsten could see the fury in his eyes as he looked at her, but he only nodded. He knew she was right, even if his feelings for her made it difficult to see that. She turned to Preston.

“Preston, I won’t order you to come with me. I know you don’t want me to go. But I’d sure appreciate having the backup.”

“Nothing you could say would stop me from coming,” he said darkly.

“That’s the enthusiasm I love to hear,” she chided gently. Virgil came walking up to them, wearing a biohazard suit and carrying a very large pack of belongings on his back. Keirsten turned to him.

“You’re going to return to the Castle with Danse. Our super mutant problem has...escalated.” 

Virgil turned a wary eye on the glowering hulk of a man towering over him in power armor and visibly flinched. 

“He’s not going to leave me lying in a ditch somewhere right?” The scientist laughed nervously. Danse responded with an enigmatic smile that clearly only made the man more anxious. Keirsten sighed. 

“Let’s get going, people. The viral apocalypse awaits.”

Preston and Virgil left the cave first. Danse hung back for just a moment. Worry hung about him like a dark cloak. 

“You be careful,” he ordered her. “Don’t take risks. Don’t be a hero and sacrifice yourself to save someone else. I know that’s the kind of woman you are, but you _can’t_ be that right now. _You’ve got to come back to me_.”

She reached up, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach his face, and patted his cheek affectionately. “Relax, you big lug. I’m coming back.” 

Keirsten knew as she and Preston headed north and Danse and Virgil headed east, he had turned back to watch her go. She could feel his eyes on her as they crested a hill and disappeared into the murky air of the glowing sea. She hated that she’d had to send him away, and maybe if he hadn’t been exiled from the Brotherhood, she’d have asked him to come with her and for Preston to escort Virgil. It didn’t matter now. She only hoped that despite the fear within her causing her heart to ache, she would see him again.

A vertibird, a knight in power armor, a scribe, and a pilot were waiting at the designated coordinates. Keirsten climbed aboard, and this time decided to strap herself in. she focused on the dirt under her nails, the stitching coming undone on Preston’s lapel, the pattern of the corrugated steel on the floor of the bird. Anything to avoid looking out at the blur of the landscape below. She wasn’t entirely convinced they’d make it to the airport in one piece. Sometimes in her dreams she still saw the billowing smoke, the mutant standing over her as she fought her body to reach her gun. Saw the butt of the rifle coming down on her face, felt the crack of her nasal bone before she slipped into darkness. 

Preston was silent on the ride, pensive. She knew he was desperately worried for her. He’d been shaken by her abduction. It was the first time he’d seen her lose the upper hand in a fight. It had diminished her in his eyes - taking her from a surreal hero to an average soldier who bled just like anyone else. That was the more realistic way to see her, and she knew it was important and necessary. Putting her up on a pedestal like he did would only lead to him making stupid decisions in order to protect her over all others. In truth, she was replaceable. There was nothing particularly special about her. She was simply the first person to step up to the jobs needing to be done.

Smoke on the horizon told her when they were close to the airport. As the vertibird neared, Keirsten couldn’t stop herself from flinching as she heard bullets whizzing past them. Blessedly, they were able to land on one of the helipads without taking too much fire. Keirsten and Preston ran down the steps and out into the center of the airport. To her surprise, Elder Maxson himself was joining in the fight. As Keirsten approached, she watched him mow down a few more mutants as they attempted to climb over the defensive wall with his gatling laser. Proctor Ingram was at his side, laser rifle firing at anything green that moved.

There were dead mutants everywhere. A large blast mark at the airport entrance showed one suicider had almost gotten close enough to be a problem. Keirsten unslung her custom Combat Rifle and joined the two of them. 

“Paladin, good of you to make it!” Maxson yelled over the battle, not entirely without humor. He was a hard man, rough around the edges, but over time she had managed to build an accord with him. She knew there was a part of him that was relieved she’d talked him out of killing Danse. Synth or not, Danse and Maxson had once been close. Friends, even. For all his grandstanding, when it had come down to the three of them in a standoff outside that bunker, she had heard the pain in Maxson’s voice as he insisted upon his orders being carried out. She had sensed the chink in his armor, and used that pain to convince him to let Danse live out his life in exile. Her careful handling of the situation had kept Danse alive, and left her in the relative good graces of the Brotherhood. Their participation in her rescue was proof of that, even if they didn’t realize that was what was going on at the time.

Keirsten responded to his jab with a grin. “Elder. I hope you saved some for me.” 

“We have ordered the vertibirds to hang back. Air support has taken heavy casualties, and we can’t afford to lose any more birds. Too many of those abominations have missile launchers. We have snipers stationed throughout the area, working to take them down, but enough have poured in that it’s become a serious hazard.” He paused to fire on another mutant careening towards them - this one, disturbingly, was on fire and somehow kept running. The mutant crashed into the earth and Maxson continued. “Their attack began around four hours ago. They are organized, for mutants. When a frontal assault didn’t go the way they wanted, they began to press us at the flank. Mutants started coming out of the water, right behind the airport. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he wiped at the perspiration impatiently with the back of one hand.

“We have called all deployed teams back in for support. They have been instructed to flank the super mutants pushing through our defenses. Hopefully they arrive in time. Worst case scenario, we lose the airport and those who survive regroup on the Prydwen.”

Keirsten shook her head emphatically. “We can’t abandon the airport. I know how they’re planning to distribute the virus.” 

A bullet zinged past her - close enough she heard it as it grazed her cheek. She jerked to attention, ready to eliminate the threat, but Preston was already firing on the mutant perched on the wall. 

“What does the airport have to do with the virus?” Maxson demanded, his attention fully on her now.

“They want the Mark 28s. They’re going to load the virus into them and detonate them all over the Commonwealth. The fallout will do the rest.” 

“ _Abominations_ ,” Maxson snarled. “Then we will make our stand here. Whatever the cost.”

Keirsten nodded grimly. There was shouting up on the wall - more mutants were swarming over, and the men guarding it were outnumbered. She sprinted to the steps and up them, firing on a mutant who was in the middle of clubbing a scribe to death with his empty rifle. She was too late to save the scribe, she noted, as the mutant toppled off the wall. The mutant had been making applesauce at this point. She took position with the rest of the soldiers and fired on the encroaching enemy. She lost all sense of time, and there was only the sound of gunfire, bellowing mutants, and men and women crying out as they died. 

The battle wore on. Storm clouds blew in from the west, dark and forbidding, and before the afternoon was done it had begun to pour. Lightning flashed and the cutting wind blew the rain right into their faces. It wasn’t a rad storm, a small silver lining there. But it was an earnest effort on mother nature’s part, and they were drenched to the bone in short order. Still the mutants came, though they fell back a little - opting to duck into cover and trade fire with the Brotherhood from afar. Keirsten found herself desperately wishing she’d braided her hair. It was sopping wet, water dripping from the ends and strands of it plastered to her face. It was hard enough to see without having to fight her own hair.

She looked up from loading another magazine, swore at her hair, and swiped it out of her face. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Something was coming, running down the road towards them with significant speed. She brought her rifle up and peered down the scope.

“Behemoth!” she screamed, her voice carrying over the din of the storm. Other soldiers took up the cry, calling out the warning. As they scrambled and began to open fire on the approaching beast, an enormous chunk of concrete hurtled towards Keirsten’s position at the center of the wall. She threw herself out of the path, but felt her body falling as half the wall caved on impact. Welded metal sheeting screamed in protest as the boulder tore through. Keirsten landed on her back, hard, the wind completely knocked out of her. The back of her head flared in pain as her neck snapped back and she hit her skull against the pavement. She reached up with a groan and felt warm, sticky blood flowing from a tear in her scalp. She struggled to get up, searching blindly for her rifle. Where had it gone to?

The ground shook as the Behemoth thundered into the airport, letting out a horrifying victorious howl. 

“For the Brotherhood!” she heard Maxson bellow as he opened fire on the enormous brute. The behemoth roared as the laser fire cut into its skin, and it swung out at Maxson in a rage with one massive arm - a club the size of Keirsten in its hand. She saw Maxson fly through the air, watched him slam into the far wall with great force - sliding down and laying still.

“Maxson!” She screamed. Her fingers closed around her rifle at last, and she rose from the ground. Keirsten’s custom rifle was no toy. It was more like a small cannon; semi-automatic and firing a .50 round. It would give your shoulder the pounding of a lifetime, but she’d built it specifically to make sure bad things didn’t get up again. In preparation for today’s fun, she’d loaded her magazines with incendiary rounds. She opened fire on the behemoth, realizing she was returning it’s bellows with a roar of her own. Preston appeared behind her, joining in on the focused fire. 

The behemoth, already wounded by Maxson’s gatling, still charged at them with the last of its strength. It didn’t make it far, under the added barrage of some of the other soldiers and Proctor Ingram. The creature fell face down and was still. Smoking holes riddled its body from Keisten’s rounds. Having verified the thing was dead, Keirsten launched into a dead run across the airport. She skidded to a stop and dropped down to Maxson’s side. Maxson was still alive, but only just. Blood was leaking from his ears, nose, mouth - evidence of severe internal injury. 

“Maxson, stay with me,” Keirsten murmured, feeling for his pulse. It was fluttering and weak. Maxson coughed, more blood bubbling at his lips, and stilled Keirsten’s hand with his own.

“It’s too late for me...Paladin. This is beyond...a stimpack’s ability to fix.”

“Don’t say that,” Keirsten pleaded. “You survived a fight with a deathclaw, remember? A behemoth has gotta be small potatoes compared to that.”

Maxson grinned at that, his teeth stained red. His grip on her tightened. “You need to take care of my people,” he demanded. He was growing weaker, his head nodding under the effort of staying conscious. “You must take your place...as acting Elder. When I am gone _._ ” His face was a mask of pain.

“If you think it’s necessary,” Keirsten said softly. “But it won’t be, because you’re going to be fine. This is nothing.”

“You always were...a shit liar,” Maxson ground out. “Tell Danse...I’m sorry. I wish I’d...had the courage...to stand up for him.”

Keirsten was glad for the rain. It hid the tears now streaming down her face. 

“Okay,” she managed to croak. “I will.”

Maxson let out a long sigh at that, letting his head fall back to rest against the wall. She felt the strength go out of him, his grip on her wrist loosening, his hand falling to his lap. He was gone. Keirsten jumped at the pressure of a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Proctor Ingram standing there.

“His sacrifice will be honored,” Ingram intoned, her voice heavy with grief. Her fingers squeezed Keirsten comfortingly. “Ad Victoriam.”

“Ad Victoriam,” Keirsten echoed, her voice barely a whisper.

There was no time to mourn. The airport was still under attack. Keirsten rallied herself, picked herself up off the ground, and turned on her heel to face the horde of super mutants pouring in through the now-destroyed wall. This was it. Kill or be killed. If she fell here, if they failed...there would be almost nobody left with the power to stop the events that had been set in motion. Around her, time slowed. She felt as though she were in a bubble, raindrops freezing as they fell. Laser fire hovered, glowing bright. She raised her rifle over her head and cried out, voice clear and sharp, ringing true.

“Brothers and sisters! We fight for humanity! For Maxson! For the Brotherhood! _Ad victoriam!_ ”

All around her, Brotherhood soldiers roared their approval, raised their rifles, stomped their feet. They resumed their efforts against the mutant army with a ferocity that would have made Maxson proud. Keirsten knew _she_ was proud.

-

Keirsten stood beside the heavy wooden box, one gloved hand resting on it. Around her, the crew was gathered - dressed in full uniform. They were all waiting for her to say something. She wasn’t ready. Not yet. It was difficult to look at this box and accept that it encompassed the entirety of a man as great as Arthur Maxson. He had been only sixteen years old when he took up the mantle of Elder. They had not seen eye to eye on everything, but Keirsten deeply respected him. She understood the rest of the Brotherhood’s respect for him. Even Danse, exiled on pain of death, still respected the man. Her hand clenched into a fist, the black leather creaking softly. He was another casualty to add to her growing ledger. How many more would go to their final resting place, fighting a war she’d started?

She looked up at last, surveyed the rows of stony faces surrounding her and Maxson. Keirsten withdrew her hand, letting it fall to her side. 

“Brothers and sisters, today we bury a leader who was a legend among men. Arthur Maxson exemplified the best qualities of a soldier of the Brotherhood of Steel. He was fierce, loyal, and brave. He was stalwart in his convictions and steadfast in his war against evil. Some of us knew him, some of us fought beside him; as one, we respected him. As was his way, Arthur chose his own battles. I have never met a more headstrong and fearless man. Today, as we return him to the earth, we honor his sacrifice. Ad Victoriam, Elder Maxson.” she saluted, fist to her chest, and the gathered crowd echoed her final words and saluted as one. Everyone stood in silence for some time, lost in their own thoughts and memories of the man. 

“Ad Victoriam, Elder Ericsson!” someone cried from the back. Another took up the cry, and another. In short order, the entire crew was saluting _her._ Keirsten closed her eyes. She’d known this was coming, but wished it hadn’t. She did not want the title. If anyone should be Elder, it was Danse. He upheld the Brotherhood’s values far more vigilantly than she. But her thoughts were not ones she could share here. Not now. And Maxson had chosen _her,_ with his dying breath. Clearly he saw something in her that he deemed worthy of the title. She was hard pressed to see anything herself.

After the funeral, Keirsten stayed to watch as the grave was slowly filled with earth. There was a part of her that felt she owed it to the man to see it finished. Proctor Ingram and Kells walked over to her. Ingram gave Keirsten a comforting pat on the back. Kells, nowhere near as familiar with Keirsten, hung back.

“Elder, we have received a disturbing report,” Kells said at last. Keirsten had to will herself not to wince at the title.

“What news, Captain?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the shovels digging into the ground.

“While we fought to protect the airport, a group of super mutants attacked Fort Strong. We only had a handful of men guarding the weapons cache there. They were...killed. The super mutants took everything. Thousands of mini nukes, gone. It would appear they loaded them onto boats and slipped away with them.” 

Keirsten let out a slow breath. They didn’t have the Mark 28s, but with enough mini nukes, they could still make their plan work.

“We have unfinished business,” Keirsten said at last. “We need to finish building Liberty Prime. If they want to come for those bombs again, we’ll give them something to remember. Get a team of our best men together. We’re going to retrieve that Beryllium Agitator.”

Ingram’s eyes sparkled with approval, and Kells saluted and headed back towards the vertibird.

Keirsten fingered the dogtags hanging around her neck. They had been Maxson’s, and now she would wear them as a reminder of the loss that awaited them all should they fail. Stretched out across the field, fresh graves were still being dug or had been filled. The super mutants had hit them _hard._ Seeing the graves of so many brave men and women filled her with a rage that burned white-hot beneath her ribs. She would kill Justin Ayo with her bare hands, and soon.

-

**  
  
**

Curie and Virgil seemed well-suited to work together. Virgil seemed to enjoy having someone who could speak to him on his level, and she peppered him with an endless series of questions that he was all too happy to answer. More than anything, Danse was sure the doctor was just grateful for some company at last. Listening to the two of them discuss viral sequencing and genomes made Danse’s skin crawl. He’d kept trying to inch out of the lab, but then one of them would ask him to hold something or lift something or push a cabinet this way or that, and Danse would get sucked back into things again despite his insistence he could send someone else to see to the equipment arranging.

The bodies of the test subjects had been laid out in a separate room, wrapped in tarps. As a precaution, Virgil had requested that the squad retrieving them ensure they did not touch the bodies. Without knowing if the virus was only contagious when bonded to radioactive isotopes, he couldn’t be sure it was safe to touch. Danse had caught the smell of them. He wasn’t sure anyone would have dared touch one anyway. It had been days, maybe weeks for some, since they’d died. Having those bodies here in the Castle made Danse very uncomfortable, but Virgil and Curie seemed to be sure of what they were doing. Danse knew from years of dealing with scribes that sticking his nose in things not under his jurisdiction was a good way to get it cut off, so to speak.

Several days had passed, and still no Keirsten. The Brotherhood had been in touch briefly, only telling Preston that Keirsten was fine and that they had been victorious over the super mutants. In typical Brotherhood fashion, they only shared mincing details. It was maddening. Still, Keirsten was alive, and that was something at least.

He was patrolling the castle walls for the five thousandth time that day when he heard a vertibird approaching. He held up a hand to block out the sun and watched it draw near. It set down just outside the front gate, kicking up a large cloud of dust. Danse climbed down from his post, crossing the yard, and realized absently he was _ running _ to greet it. Keirsten hopped out of the vertibird, her long hair twisted into a tight braid. She was dressed differently than usual. She wore black BDUs, a combat chest plate, and a black leather jacket. Preston hopped down after her, giving Danse a friendly punch in the arm as he jogged past towards the Castle.

Keirsten waved the pilot off, and he rose into the air again and headed off in the direction of the airport. She looked tired and careworn, but also vital and strong. The frailty she’d had about her after her imprisonment was gone. He saw then, looking at her, that fine lines had begun to show at the corners of her eyes and where her brows drew together in times of frustration. She walked like a woman carrying an enormous weight upon her shoulders.

“Welcome back,” Danse greeted her. She smiled at him, but no light reached her eyes. Instead, she pulled him into a quick hug, letting out a long sigh as she leaned into him.

“It’s been a rough couple days,” she said into his chest.

“I don’t know much about what went on, but when you’re ready to talk I’d like to hear about it,” he replied, rubbing her back.

“I need a bath, maybe a long nap, and then we can have that talk. Come find me in an hour or so?”

He nodded, and watched her stride into the castle. 

**  
  
**

When he rapped on her door a couple hours later, she answered at the third knock. She was wearing a white tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. Her hair was still damp, the ripples of it shining in the low lighting of her bedside lamp. He found himself acutely aware of the way the white tee shirt clung to her, just translucent enough to to make his mouth go dry and his heart to flail wildly in his chest. He must have had a good poker face, because Keirsten didn’t seem to register her effect on him. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. He sat in the overstuffed armchair she had dragged all the way back to the Castle from Goodneighbor. Hancock had been willing to part with it for a couple doses of Jet and a kiss on the cheek - the latter which he received while smirking devilishly at Danse over her shoulder. The thought of it now made Danse curl his hands into fists. He’d wanted to punch that smug, self-centered, arrogant asshole of a ghoul right where his nose used to be.

Keirsten sat cross-legged on the bed, lacing her fingers together in her lap. She began to lay out the story, telling him about the waves of super mutants, the behemoth, about Elder Maxson. Tears shone in her eyes, and Danse realized with a start they were mirrored in his own. In all his adult life, he had cried once before. On the way home from his mission of tracking Cutler and his team, Danse had excused himself from camp and wandered into the wasteland to clear his head. When he was alone, and there was no sound but the breeze rustling through the trees, he’d collapsed against the nearest trunk and cried. It hadn’t been the sort of tears you’d see in a film. It was mostly dry, hoarse sobs accompanied by a handful of tears. It was as though all the grief was stuck in his chest and would not - could not - come out. 

Now, learning of Arthur’s death, that same terrible choking feeling filled him again. He would have followed him to the ends of the earth. He would have given his life to save Arthur’s in a heartbeat.

“He wanted you to know he was sorry, at the end.” a tear slipped down Keirsten’s cheek. “He said he wished he’d had the courage to stand up for you. Danse, he loved you. I knew it the day he let you go, and I saw it again in his eyes during those last moments.”

Danse pressed his knuckles to his lips, willing the terrible feeling to dissipate. It did not.

She could see the difficulty he was having, and tactfully continued in her tale. When she told him about being named Elder - first by Maxson and then by the crew - Danse smiled proudly at her through the tears in his eyes.

“He was right. You will make an outstanding Elder.”

“It doesn’t feel right, Danse. Someone more worthy than me should have that title.”

“I can’t imagine anyone having a greater claim of worthiness than the endorsement of the finest Elder the Brotherhood has ever seen,” Danse said softly.

“Maybe,” she dismissed the words. “I guess what’s done is done. We protected the Mark 28s, at great cost. For what little good it did. They stole the entire cache of mini nukes in Fort Strong while they kept us occupied. They now have the materials they need to build their bombs. It feels as though they’ve won. It’s only a matter of time.”

“We will find them,” Danse said confidently. “We found them once, and we will find them again.”

“That was pure luck,” she frowned. “Strong helping you was a one in a million kind of thing. I don’t have a stash of secret mutie friends I can dip into for information.”

“What about Liberty Prime?” Danse asked. She raised her eyebrows.

“I didn’t even tell you about that yet.”

“Tell me about _what_?” 

“We finished his assembly. He’s currently stomping around the airport, yelling about killing red chinese.” 

Danse fell back in the chair. “No shit.”

She nodded, grinning, “No shit.” 

“He does have the capability of analyzing structures and their contents,” Danse pointed out. “Seems to me you have everything you need to find their new base of operations.”

She chewed her lip. “We considered that, but I have a couple concerns. Firstly, he’s not exactly subtle. He can be seen coming from miles away. They’d likely have ample warning of his coming, and without a target to home in on, he’d just be wandering around looking. We wouldn’t be able to catch them with their pants down. Secondly, If they were able to take him down somehow… Remember, they’ve got a _lot_ of mini nukes of their own now… then they’d have access to not only those, but his compliment of the Mark 28s as well.”

Danse signed. “You are correct, as always. So, he protects the airport and the recovering Brotherhood. What is the plan from here?”

“We put eyes and ears everywhere,” she said simply. “There aren’t a whole lot of places that many super mutants, a handful of evil scientists, and thousands of mini nukes can hide. They’re going to want to hunker down somewhere they can build their bigger bombs in peace and weaponize them with the virus. Somewhere with lots of space and materials. The Railroad has contacts on every block. We’ll find them. I just hope we find them quickly enough we can avoid any more bloodshed. I don’t want any more deaths on my conscience.” She swallowed hard. He hated the way her eyes were shadowed, pained. Leadership was not for the faint of heart, and Keirsten...she had the heart of a lion.

“Elder Ericsson,” he tested the title on his tongue. She groaned, putting her hands over her ears.

“Don’t. Not you, too. I’ve been hearing it for days.”

“I like it. Makes you sound tough.” 

“Do you remember when we were first getting to know each other...how you’d always call me ‘Soldier’? I’d say something like, ‘What’s on your mind?’ and you’d reply, ‘Let’s focus on the mission at hand, Soldier.’” She mimicked his deep voice, making it extra grumpy.

“You were under my command. I spoke to you as such.” He bit his cheek to stop himself from smiling at her impression of him.

“You were so stiff and proper in those early days,” her eyes were far away, remembering. “I told you every dad joke I knew, and you didn’t crack a smile once.”

“How do you know I didn’t? I was always wearing a helmet.” 

She laughed. “That’s true. You were never out of that power armor. Sometimes I’d pass the hours of walking thinking about--” and then she stopped, and two bright red spots appeared on her cheeks.

Danse leaned forward, deeply interested now. “You’d think about _what?”_

She shook her head, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her face. He stood up from the armchair and paced over to the edge of the bed, gently pulling the pillow away. She was _still_ blushing. How intriguing.

“Keirsten,” he said in his most serious voice, “Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel or not, if you don’t confess to your crimes, I _will_ tickle you.” 

She screeched and rolled away from him. “Don’t you dare.” 

He held up his hands like two claws, flexing the fingers. She screeched again and threw the other pillow at his head as he put one knee on the bed. She was pink and laughing, her eyes shining again, and that was what he had wanted more than anything in the world. He wanted to see her like this forever. He felt absurd, playing like this, but something about her drew it out of him.

He brought his other knee up onto the bed and began to crawl towards her menacingly. She giggled breathlessly. “Fine, fine, don’t. Stay over there, you monster. I’ll tell you.”

He paused, waiting. 

“I’d think about what you looked like out of that armor. You had the most handsome face, and that lovely thick head of hair. I let my mind wander.”

A smirk spread across his face. “Just the power armor?” 

“Everything,” she confessed. Without her pillows, she pressed her hands to her cheeks instead. “I felt cheated, you know. That bunker was very dark.” 

Danse’s heart was going to give out if it beat any faster. They were treading on dangerous ground here. A door had opened, and both of them were dancing around it - afraid to step through. 

“It _was_ very dark, wasn’t it,” was the only reply he could muster. 

Silence hung in the air between them, and then something shifted in her eyes. She rose to her knees and crawled across the distance between them. Danse was leaned back on his heels, afraid to move lest he startle her out of whatever this was. She was close, her lips slightly parted as she gazed up at him. When she saw no resistance in his eyes, she reached out carefully - sliding her hands over his chest, tracing the shape of his muscles beneath his sweater. He drew in his breath sharply. The proximity of her, the feeling of her hands on him...it was intoxicating. 

Her hands roamed downward, thumbs caressing his serratus muscles before gliding over the indentations of his abdominals. He was acutely aware of how ragged his breathing was as her cool fingers slid beneath the hem of his sweater, gently tugging at it, pulling upwards. He lifted his arms helpfully, and the sweater slid up and over his head. Her fingers skimmed the chain of his dogtags, a single nail dragging over the links of it one by one. The sensation was exquisite. 

“That’s better,” she murmured as though from somewhere far away. “I would say you are exactly as I imagined and even better than I remember.”

She lowered her head and placed the gentlest of kisses on his chest, just over his heart, before trailing her way up to his clavicle. All the while she continued to explore him with her hands. Her lips found the frantic pulse at his throat, and she chuckled softly, kissing him there again.

Her teasing was about to drive him mad, and he had lost all composure. He snaked a hand up into her hair, gripping a handful of it gently and pulling her away from him. She let out a delighted little gasp, and the wicked look in her eye as she grinned at him threatened to be his undoing.

“My turn,” he growled at her, toppling her backwards onto the bed. She let out a little scream of mock terror as he buried his five day’s worth of scruff into her neck.

It was different this time. The first time had been reckless and almost violent. A hurricane and a tornado colliding, twisting together until the power of the storm within them abated. They’d bruised their lips in their hunger, frenzied by the sensation of drowning in one another. Scraping their skin against the brick walls of the bunker in the torrent of it. It had felt like... they were fighting for their lives.

  
This time, it felt like they’d _found_ life. The way she touched him, the way her hands cupped his face or ran through his hair or dragged down his back…The tenderness in each contact sent tendrils of warmth through him, wrapping around his heart. He felt as though he were a piece of fabric, and she was unraveling him one thread at a time. The unraveling had begun a long time ago. She’d pulled the first thread the moment she’d first walked into Cambridge.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I worked on this chapter until my husband about physically dragged me to bed in the wee hours of morning. He's truly a saint.  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Curie put her stethoscope down and released the pressure cuff from around Keirsten’s upper arm. Danse was hovering anxiously in a corner, but Keirsten didn’t have the heart to dismiss him. If anything, her clean bill of health would soothe him.

“Well,” Curie said, rolling back on her stool. “You and the baby both seem to be in excellent health. And you have been taking the iron supplements every day, oui?” 

“Yes, Curie. Every day.” She illustrated this with a jingle of her pocket. The bottle of iron pills rattled. Curie smiled in approval.

“Excellent. I would tell you to get lots of rest, but I know what a busy little bee you always are. So, please drink plenty of water and be sure to eat healthy meals. No snack cakes,” she added as an afterthought. Kristen wrinkled her nose. There was no temptation in those stale, overly sweet things. Danse, however, seemed to love them. She’d found him munching on a box of them on more than one occasion. 

Danse and Curie were the only two people who knew her secret. Over the weeks following the battle at the airport, she had finally begun to show. She’d opted for loose fitting sweaters, bulky coats, and combat armor. They would do the trick to conceal the news for now. It wasn’t that she felt ashamed, or saddened. Once she’d adjusted to the new variety of grief this pregnancy had brought with it, she’d begun to accept the idea. It had felt less like a curse of misfortune, less like a reminder of her pain - and more like the universe’s way of apologizing.  _ Sorry I killed your husband and let a bunch of zealots steal your baby to raise into a mad scientist villain. Here’s a consolation prize.  _ And then there was Danse. He’d slept in her bed every night since their reunion. She didn’t have the strength in her to fight something that felt so inevitable, so...predestined. She was as drawn to him as a moth was to a candle, but the burning at the end of her flight was a much sweeter one. 

No, she kept her pregnancy a secret because she didn’t want her troops to see her as a mother or a woman in need of protection. They would not take her seriously or heed her orders, would not follow her into battle without reservation, if they knew. Their affection for her as a person already compromised them. They had fought at her side, seen her bleed, and heard her terrible jokes. She was one of them. That was part of the problem. If it came down to leaving her behind to complete a mission, she wasn’t sure they would. She could not weaken their resolve further by showing them such a human side of her. The child growing within her must be kept quiet, until their task was done and Ayo was stopped.

That night, as they lay in bed, Danse read a book and she stretched out languidly beside him. She turned her head towards him, marvelling at the serenity in his face. Had she ever seen him look this way? So at peace? Content, even?

“What are you reading?” she asked softly, snuggling in closer to him.

“It’s something I found in the old library. It’s called ‘A Farewell to Arms’.” 

“Ohhh, Hemingway. How wonderful. Read some of it to me?” she pleaded. He smiled down at her, the look in his eyes leaving her feeling limp and weak amidst the blankets. The corners of his mouth still lifted, he turned back to the page and began to read in a low, rumbling, gentle voice.

_ “That night at the hotel, in our room with the long empty hall outside and our shoes outside the door, a thick carpet on the floor of the room, outside the windows the rain falling and in the room light and pleasant and cheerful, then the light out and it exciting with smooth sheets and the bed comfortable, feeling that we had come home, feeling no longer alone, waking in the night to find the other one there, and not gone away; all other things were unreal. We slept when we were tired and if we woke the other one woke too so one was not alone. Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others ... But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together.  _

_ I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started. But with Catherine there was almost no difference in the night except that it was an even better time. If people bring so much courage to the world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”  _

“ _ But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together,”  _ she repeated in a whisper, the words sweet on her tongue.

He set the book down, marking his place with a dogear to the page. He shifted to face her, and Keirsten felt all the world like she was drowning in him. He smoothed her hair from her face, pressing his lips to her forehead so gently it brought tears to her eyes. His hand roamed down to rest against her rounded stomach, holding her. She knew in that moment he would always be at her side. He wanted this baby as much as she did. In a bizarre twist of fate, he had been given a chance to be a father. The universe’s gift had not been to her alone. It was an apology that nearly did make up for everything else; for all the things that had nearly broken her, but left her strong at the broken places. 

“I love you,” the words left her lips so softly she thought he might not hear them. But he did hear them, for his head dipped down to hers, his mouth fitting to hers in a way that felt so exactly right it was as though it had been made to kiss her.

  
  


-

  
  


News came with the light of morning. There was a tentative knock at the door. Danse was already gone. He was an early riser, and each morning he would get dressed and tiptoe out, leaving her to her rest. Keirsten threw a robe around herself, tried to finger-comb her hair into something presentable, and opened the door. Preston stood there, eyes focusing on the door frame to preserve her modesty. What a sweet, silly man.

“General, I am sorry to wake you...but Deacon is on the radio. They’ve got intel on the super mutants for us.”

“Let me grab my coat,” she answered, shutting the door again. She grabbed a sweater - Danse’s, from the size of it - and pulled it over her head before stepping back into yesterday’s pants. They were getting snug around her. That would be a real problem soon. Pulling her Minutemen trench coat over the ensemble, she rejoined Preston outside her door, and together they walked to the radio in the courtyard.

“Deacon, give me good news,” she said into the receiver. Deacon’s voice came through, lazy and drawling as always.

“Keirsten, I’m great, thanks for asking. How are you?”

“ _ Ha, ha _ , Deacon. Tell me the news now or I’m hanging up on you and wandering off to find a cup of coffee.” 

“So a guy told a friend who told his friend who told a cousin who passed it on to a Tourist...that the old Corvega power plant has been real busy lately.”

“What do you mean by  _ busy,  _ Deacon?”

“Lots of movement around those parts. Mutants coming and going late at night. The smoke stacks spewing day and night. Anyone who goes near that place is never seen again.”

She slammed a fist down on the table in her excitement, making Preston and the Minuteman sitting beside her jump.  _ The Corvega plant.  _ It had everything Ayo would need. Power, plenty of work space, easy to defend. The towers provided an excellent view of the Commonwealth - they could see for miles from the ladders at the top of those stacks. Months back, when she’d agreed to join the Minutemen and help Preston reestablish their presence, she’d gone to the Corvega plant. A group of particularly nasty raiders had set up camp there, harassing the surrounding settlements and leaving a bloody wake behind them. She’d killed them all, as well as clearing out the basement full of ghouls they hadn’t wanted to deal with during their stay. She was quite familiar with the layout.

“Deacon, this is amazing news. I could kiss you.”

“Hey now, I know I’m a beautiful man, but you’ve already got one of those from what I hear. And he’s not the type I’d want to tangle with.”

She laughed. “I’ll find a way to live with my broken heart. Thanks, Deacon. We will get right to work on this.”

“You let us know if you need anything from us.” His voice was more serious now. “I know we’re not exactly an army of tin soldiers, but if you need manpower...count us in.”

“Will do.”

She hung the receiver back up and pushed her chair back. The board had been set, and the first move was up to her now. She needed to go speak with Virgil. 

  
  


Virgil and Curie were hard at work. Curie was examining something under a microscope, and Virgil was taking notes on a caged mole rat. The thing had nearly doubled in size, its pink skin now turned green and the wiry hairs of its body had been shed. It thrashed violently at the cage, but the thick metal bars held. Looking at the creature made Keirsten’s stomach turn. She thought about the Gunner writhing on the exam table, struggling against his restraints as the transformation took hold, and cleared her throat to distract herself from the memory. Virgil turned, pausing over his clipboard.

“Good morning, General. What brings you down here?”

“Good morning,” she reciprocated. “We have the location of the mutant’s new stronghold. Before I put together a plan of attack, I wanted to touch base with you. How are things progressing? Have you had any positive results?”

Virgil gestured at the enraged mole rat. “We have moved to clinical trials. I have injected this subject with our newest formulation. We are feeling optimistic, but it is far too soon to tell if it will be effective. My own cure took three full days to complete the work on me. We are talking about a major transformation on a cellular level. Of restoring the body’s natural genetic code. These things take time.” 

“I don’t know if I can wait three days,” she said worriedly. “It’s been three  _ weeks _ since they acquired those mini nukes. Who  _ knows _ how far they have progressed.” 

“If you raid that facility and are infecte, I cannot promise we can save you. I cannot promise there will be a cure, not three days from now or three years from now. You cannot count on eggs that have not hatched, if I remember the saying correctly.”

She nodded. “I know.” She leaned against the wall, watching the mole rat snarl and snap. She couldn’t wait based on hope. She knew that. She was going to have to hit the Corvega plant with everything she had. If any of them got away, if Ayo wasn’t there...she’d be sacrificing her people for nothing. But she couldn’t risk  _ not  _ going. The stakes were too high.

Virgil sighed and walked over to his work station, setting down his clipboard and opening a drawer. He pulled out a small medical bag and returned to her, holding it out.

“What’s this?” she asked, taking the bag.

“The most powerful tranquilizer you can safely use on a human,” he answered. “If anything happens, if you get infected, inject yourself with this. It’s enough to knock out you...or the thing you may end up becoming...for 48 hours. It will buy us time to make sure you are safely restrained. Hopefully the day may come when we can cure you.”

“What about the others?” She asked, eyes narrowing. “What if one of them is infected?”

“They are not the General of the Minutemen, nor the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. There is little use in helping a foot soldier. You, however, are important. We cannot lose you.”

“Won’t you lose me if I am infected?” she countered. 

“Only if we cannot cure you,” Virgil smiled thinly.

“Brian, can I...ask you something? About FEV?” Fear had seized her heart. Virgil looked at her, one brow raised inquisitively. She licked her lips nervously.

“I know children cannot survive the transformation,” she said quietly. “But what about... an unborn baby?”

Virgil’s gaze lowered to where Keirsten had one hand pressed protectively to her stomach. She watched understanding dawn in his eyes as they rose to meet hers again. He shook his head, looking very unhappy.

“You should not go,” he said, his voice laden with worry. “Only  _ you _ would survive the transformation.” 

She gave him a jerky nod, jamming her hand back into her pocket, and left the laboratory quickly - leaving Virgil standing beside the cage containing the snarling mole rat.

-

  
  


It took a couple days to sort out a strategy and get everyone into position. The Paladins and Knights would lead the charge. They could take the most beating, with their power armor and combat experience. Following them would be the Railroad and Minutemen heavies, some had power armor of their own and the rest were heavily armored in other ways. Flanking the two would be the rest of her troops, basic infantry and snipers. The snipers would provide cover fire from the farthest back. Breaching the old plant would be the tricky part. They went from open fields to confined spaces, and going face to face with super mutants. Shotguns, miniguns, and grenades would be utilized for maximum damage. The Castle bustled with activity as men and women rushed to and fro, preparing themselves for battle. With Preston left to oversee the preparations at the Castle, Keirsten returned to the Prydwen - and this time, she took Danse with her.

When Captain Kells laid eyes on Danse as they climbed out of their vertibird, his mouth actually fell open. It was the most reaction Keirsten had ever seen from the man, for anything. His eyes flicked to her face, and she held up a hand in warning. He nodded and relaxed his stance, inclining his head to Danse and saluting to her.

You could have heard a pin drop as they entered the command deck. Danse’s jaw was clenched tight, shoulders braced, ready for conflict...but none came. In fact, many people looked relieved to see him, or even saluted him as they would any Paladin. Haylen and Rhys, grinning ear to ear, saluted them both. As the members of the command crew filtered in for her address, she positioned Danse beside her. She saw the frigid look Proctor Quinlan gave Danse, and threw the man a dark look that immediately shut him down. When everyone had assembled, she reached out and placed a hand on Danse’s arm.

“Today, one of our own returns to us. The things you may have heard are true. Paladin Danse is a synth.” There were a few murmurs, but she silenced them with a look. “Despite his origins, Paladin Danse has always been a loyal soldier of the Brotherhood. He has fought beside you and served under Elder Maxson with honor. The Institute has been destroyed. There is no threat of them interfering any longer. Paladin Danse is at last safe from their clutches, as are the rest of us. As are the people of the Commonwealth. Elder Maxson saw fit to show mercy and spare Paladin Danse’s life, though the exile was necessary to ensure he could not be used by the Institute. With that threat gone, and as acting Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, I am fully reinstating him to his rightful place with us.”

She scanned the crew - and not one face, with the exception of Quinlan’s, betrayed any protest. Some were even smiling despite themselves. She released Danse’s arm, and he stepped to the side, joining the crew. She saw more than one slap on the back out of the corner of her eye.  _ If you ever doubted their loyalty to you, Danse, see them now. They are glad you are alive, glad you are back among them. _

“By now, many of you have prepared yourselves and your direct reports for the fight ahead. You all know the stakes. I do not believe I need to impress upon you the importance of our victory. You were all there at the airport. You fought beside me, watched our Elder fall at the hands of an abomination. You saw what the enemy is capable of. As soldiers of the Brotherhood of Steel, it is our sacred duty to protect and preserve human life. Tomorrow, we will show the super mutants what we are made of. We will leave no mutant alive, draw no quarter. Let’s give ‘em hell, boys! Ad Victoriam!”

The response was deafening. In the eyes of everyone on that deck, a fire was kindled. They would fight to the last man if need be. And she would fight beside them.

  
  


The assault would start as soon as evening light offered them cover. Every soldier had been equipped with night vision optics, allowing them to see their enemy without being seen. Danse and Preston flanked Keirsten as she strode back and forth impatiently, waiting for the sun to sink behind the hills. Scouts had established the safest range for them to assemble - just beyond sight of any watching from the plant. They had two miles to cover on foot before they even reached the plant. That was a lot of open ground, a lot of chances for super mutants to wipe out large numbers of them. They had even taken the precaution of painting all the suits of armor black - lest gleaming metal give them away. Those not in power armor wore black or deep blue to blend into the darkness.

Keirsten’s heart thrummed in her chest anxiously. She was risking everything. Herself, her child,  _ Danse _ . But she could not be the sort of leader who sent men to die in her place. She would not hover over a map and move pawns about. Danse had voiced his concern - in a tone dangerously close to all-out yelling. He was angry with her, and their last conversation had been very heated. It had ended with him falling to his knees in defeat before her chair, wrapping his arms about her and resting his head against her stomach while she stroked his hair. She wanted to tell him it would be okay, but she couldn’t make promises. He knew that, knew she couldn’t be sure of anything, and it distressed him greatly.

At last, the sun disappeared, and light slowly faded from the world. It was time. Preston went to join the regiment he was overseeing, and Danse split off to his. Keirsten stood alone, looking out over the dark Commonwealth. The air was cold. Winter was fast approaching. Her breath puffed out, white in the chill. She tightened her jacket about her, held her rifle ready, and gave the signal for the assault to begin before joining the troops running silently across the field.

They were not spotted until one mile out. She could hear gunfire, but at this range they were relatively safe from anything save a missile. The ground blurred past beneath them as they kept up the pace. More gunfire, and now some of the bullets were striking close. She heard grunts or cries throughout the ranks as some of them found their marks. The sky over them lit up, as the vertibirds waiting on the fringes began to provide cover fire. Each bird sported a missile launcher of their own, and she watched explosions pelt the plant’s towers. It almost reminded her of fireworks.

Half a mile. A quarter mile. Her pulse raced as she sprinted closer to their goal. Gunfire all-out erupted as mutants swarmed from inside the plant, pouring through the doorways and shouting in anger and surprise. They were unprepared, caught off guard, and her troops barreled into them with a violent clash of steel and the thunderclap of guns. The air tasted like gunpowder and singed flesh. The super mutants were drowned out by calls of ‘ _ For the Brotherhood! _ ’ and ‘ _ Ad Victoriam! _ ’ and ‘ _ For the General! _ ’ Her soldiers fought like they were possessed, and the mutants fell before the onslaught.

They were in the factory now - the large doors ripped from their hinges by knights in power armor. The entrance loomed before them like the maw of a cave, and they poured into the building from all sides. Keirsten saw Danse ahead, wrestling over his rifle with a mutant. He gained the upper hand, bashing the mutant in the face with the stock of his laser rifle before leaping back and firing a round into the creature. He must have felt her eyes on him, for he looked up and grinned at her. His hair curled over his forehead in a way that reminded of her Superman. She loved when it did that. She grinned back, before ducking into the plant with the tide of the others.

The halls were choked with soldiers as they filtered into the factory, and super mutants came from every doorway, down every flight of stairs. There were  _ so many  _ of them. The stench of rotting meat and filth, the inevitable prelude to a super mutant presence, filled her nostrils. She pulled her bandana up over her nose and mouth, gagging. She could  _ taste  _ the air, thick and heavy on her tongue. Preston joined her in the doorway to main assembly. The place had been completely redone. All the old cars had been pulled out. Conveyor belts ran the length of the room, mini nukes half-disassembled littering them. At the center, there was a work table. Sitting on it, half-finished but still unmistakable, was a nuclear bomb the size of a super mutant. 

“Watch your fire!” She yelled as soldiers filled the room, trading shots with super mutants up in the control room. “If you set that thing off, we all go!” 

She ducked behind a wall, taking a moment to survey the room. She did not see any sign of Ayo or the other two scientists. This room was clearly only intended for assembly. Their lab was somewhere else in this building. She remembered a cafeteria, from her last time in this place. Tables, cabinets. Lots of space. If she were a former Institute scientist hell-bent on destroying mankind, that is where she’d set up  _ her  _ FEV lab. She wheeled and made off in that direction, taking the stairs up two at a time. The hallway leading to the cafeteria was empty. If there had been mutants guarding it, they’d responded to the ongoing barrage throughout the plant. Keirsten turned and held a finger up to her lips, signaling for Preston to be as quiet as possible. He nodded that he understood. The soles of her boots were silent on the brittle plastic flooring.

“Knew you’d be back,” a voice said from behind her. Keirsten froze, and turned. A super mutant stepped out from the shadows. She’d recognize  _ him _ anywhere.

“Crush, my old pal. I thought I’d swing by for a visit. See how things were going.”

Preston kept his rifle trained on the mutant, who seemed unbothered by the threat.

“Glad you came,” the mutant sneered. “Not much to eat here. Settlers are tough, stringy. You look more tender. I will roast your meat, nice and juicy. Drink the marrow from your bones.”

“I’m flattered by the dinner invitation, but I’m seeing someone.” 

“Let me shoot him,” Preston begged.

“No,” Keirsten said firmly. “This is between the two of us.” 

They faced each other, tensed like two alley cats - each waiting for the other to spring. Keirsten began to run towards the mutant. His face split in a grin and he charged at her in turn, armor clanking loudly. At the last second, Keirsten pivoted and rolled, just clearing the mutant’s arms and sliding across the floor between his legs. She popped up behind him and kept running, grabbing Preston by the arm and dragging him with her.

“What--” Crusher roared, turning slowly, confused, as she and Preston put distance between them. He noticed the grenade hooked to his barbed wire belt too late, and a second later the walls of the hallway were painted red with super mutant blood and questionable red blobs.

Keirsten walked through the mutant soup, unblinking. So much for being quiet. She stopped outside the cafeteria, her pistol held close to her chest, and peeked around the corner. As she’s suspected, the room had been cleared out and utilized as a lab. Beakers, jars, syringes, surgical tools, and various vials of things covered the countertops that had once held old lunch boxes, empty mugs, and half-eaten crackers petrified by time. There were lockers and a filing cabinet on the far wall. A solid stainless table had been placed in the center of the room, and on it was a rack of cylinders filled with glowing amber liquid and capped. There were 12 of them, each cylinder roughly the diameter of her forearm and of equal length to it. 

The lab itself was empty. She lowered her handgun and cursed under her breath. She’d been afraid of this. With no way to get close without sounding the alarm, they risked losing Ayo again. But they had his bombs and they had his virus. Even if he had a sample of it with him still, rebuilding all this again would be nearly impossible. Especially with his mutant army either dead or about to be. Preston whistled, looking around them.

“Looks like we got here in time.” 

“I’m really not sure what to do with this stuff,” she admitted. “We can’t nuke it to kingdom come. The virus thrives in a radioactive environment.”

“We could...drop it into the ocean with some weights on it,” Preston suggested.

Keirsten laughed, then sobered. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” She holstered her gun and began pulling drawers of the filing cabinet open, skimming through the folders. Bingo. There were lab notes in here. Ayo must have been too paranoid to use a terminal. If anyone knew how easy it was to snoop around in terminals, it would be Ayo. He’d gone through all his colleague’s terminals back at the Institute in the name of security. She pulled a folder of particular interest out, thumbing through the pages inside. Her hands stilled. She wasn’t good at reading Chinese menus, but she was pretty sure what she held in her hands was the entire diagram of the virus’ structure. This was exactly what Virgil needed to accelerate his research. 

“Holy shit,” she said, turning to Preston. “Do you know what this is?” 

She watched Preston’s eyes go wide, and then he was launching himself at her. She didn’t even have time to react. He barreled into her like a freight train, grabbing her so hard his grip hurt her arms, twisting with her in a bizarre sort of dance and bringing them crashing to the floor. She let out a surprised yell as she hit the floor at full force, with Preston’s weight and velocity making it even more painful.  _ Had he lost his goddamn mind?  _ She wondered, angry now, pushing at him. She couldn’t breathe for the bulk atop her. Preston was almost as large as Danse, and he was crushing her. She could hardly see around his shoulder. She blinked up at ugly hung ceiling tiles, stunned. 

But she  _ could _ see the familiar face as it came into view, could see those thin lips pulled back in a vicious snarl as Ayo yanked the syringe from Preston’s back. Preston groaned, his lip split from the fall, and rolled off her - bringing his own pistol up to aim at Ayo. Ayo kicked it out of his hand viciously, and it went flying - sliding out of reach. Keirsten saw the locker door, still swinging behind him, and realized...He’d been here with them the whole time.  _ Inches _ from her.

Ayo lifted his revolver and pointed it at Keirsten, his face livid.

“That was meant for you, bitch.” he snapped. “But I suppose forcing you to watch your self-sacrificing friend here change will be poetic justice. I’ll let him tear you apart.”

Keirsten turned horrified eyes to Preston. He was gasping, hunched, his pupils dilating. No. no, no, no, no, no. _ Not Preston. _

“I’ll kill you, you piece of shit,” She snarled at Ayo. He laughed mirthlessly.

“I don’t think so. I hold all the cards at the moment.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Preston panted, interjecting. “We developed a cure to your virus weeks ago.”

“That’s impossible,” Ayo snapped. “There was nothing to base a cure off of.”

“You left bodies in the basement of your last digs. We retrieved them, used samples from them.”

_ He’s buying me time,  _ Keirsten realized.  _ He’s distracting Ayo and giving me the seconds I need. _

Ayo was staring at Preston, doubt stealing into his expression. The muzzle of the revolver strayed to Preston as Ayo’s hand shook with rage.

“No,” he shouted. “You can’t have, not in such a short ti--”

Keirsten swept his legs out from under him. He flailed his arms, grasping at air, as he careened to the ground. His revolver flipped from his hand, spinning away like a top on the hard plastic floor. Keirsten was on him in a flash, straddling him, her knees pinning his arms. He bucked under her, screaming, flecks of spittle on his lips and in his pathetic mustache. When he realized she was stronger than him, he subsided in his struggles. He began to  _ laugh _ . 

“You haven’t won,” he said through the hysteria. “You might have stopped me, but when I’m gone, you’ll still have to watch your friend transform. There is no cure. I knew you were bluffing. Enjoy your hollow victory,  _ General. _ ”

“You chose this,” Keirsten growled, ignoring his taunts. “You were given the option to go in peace and forge a new life. You chose to squander that. Go to your death knowing you failed. Humanity will survive and continue long after _ you _ .”

She drew her combat knife from her boot. A terrible wrath had overtaken her. She was calm. Calmer than she’d ever been in her life. There was a roaring in her ears, drowning out Preston’s pained moans behind her. There was only she and Ayo, alone in an echo chamber. He glared up at her, seething, as she set the tip of the knife over his heart. She slowly pressed the knife down, using both hands for strength. Fabric parted, giving way to flesh. Flesh parted, giving way to bone. She felt the fibrous connective tissue between ribs tear, like a delicate veil. She felt every single millimeter of him give way beneath her blade, until with a final slick sound it found his heart. His eyes went wide as the knife created damage that could not be repaired, tearing a hole in his right atrium. It beat once, twice, and then was still. 

Her face was inches from his during the ordeal, her teeth bared in a snarl as his were bared in a defiant grin. She watched the moment the light went out in his eyes, felt his heartbeat halt through the handle of the knife. She stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, staring into his face.

A groan behind her pulled her from her trance.

“Preston,” she cried, remembering. She clambered off of Ayo’s body and crawled over to Preston. He was shaking, the veins on his neck and arms standing out unnaturally. He looked at her, his eyes blown out entirely black. Vessels in his eyes had ruptured, shooting the whites through with blots of scarlet. She pulled his head into her lap, tears welling in her eyes and falling on his blue coat.

“Preston, you shouldn’t have done that, what were you thinking, why would you do that, I don’t matter, not that much, why Preston?” Her words were running together, incomprehensible. 

“You would have done the same for me,” he managed to say through chattering teeth. “Besides...it’s not just you I have to worry about.” His eyes stole down to her stomach.

“Wait...You  _ knew _ ?” She asked, incredulous.

“I’ve known for some time,” Preston smiled through the pain. “Danse and Curie really underestimated my hearing.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” 

“It wasn’t my secret to know. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Or when you got too round to hide it anymore.” 

She laughed through her tears.

“I don’t want to change, Keirsten,” he said, gripping her hand in his. “I don’t want to lose myself. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

She began crying in earnest, then. “Don’t ask that of me, Preston. I can’t. Please.” 

“Then go find one of our men and ask them,” he pressed softly. “It’s what I want.” 

A thought came to her, then. “Wait. There may be another way.” 

“Let’s hear it. Time’s a-wasting.” His body was spasming even harder, and speaking was becoming difficult.

  
  
  


She ran like she’d never run in her entire life, flying through the chaotic plant and outside. Danse was speaking to several other Paladins. She raced towards him.

“ _ Danse! _ ” she screamed across the distance, her legs pumping. He looked up, immediately on guard.

“Danse, I need you! And I need one of those vertibirds down here, immediately!” 

Danse didn’t ask any questions. He sprang into motion at once, following her back through the plant while shouting orders over the radio. Preston lay where she’d left him, unmoving. An empty syringe lay beside him, where she’d tossed it in her haste. Danse looked at Preston’s still form, then over at Ayo lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Ayo injected him with the virus,” she said breathlessly. “He was going for me but Preston got in the way. Danse, he’s transforming. I sedated him, but we need to get him moved  _ immediately _ .”

“Keirsten, we don’t have anywhere we can hold a gigantic, insane super mutant.”

She shook her head. “We’re not going to let the transformation run its course. We’re going to load him up in that vertibird and take him to Vault 111.”

Danse looked at her with a look of utter confusion.

“Danse,” she wanted to shake him. “There’s a cryo pod still in working order there.” 

Realization sparked in his eyes, and without any further debate, he crouched low in his armor and hefted Preston’s bulk over his shoulder. Together, they stormed back outside to the waiting vertibird.


	9. Chapter 9

Keirsten pressed her forehead to the glass and closed her eyes. There was a certain irony to coming back here. The pod that had taken her entire life from her was now the only thing keeping Preston safe. Once a week, she took a break from the Prydwen and her new duties and came back to Sanctuary. Her first stop was always coming here. Sometimes she talked to him, as though he could hear anything she said. Sometimes she pressed herself back into a dark corner and cried until she fell asleep, slumped against the wall. This vault had been her prison and Nate’s tomb, and while she desperately never wanted to come back here again...she felt she needed to. He hadn’t just saved her life. He’d saved the life of her child, knowing what it could mean for him. He had been her friend; piecing her back together after she’d staggered out of Vault 111, disoriented and entirely alone in a terrifying new world. Every step of the way, every decision she’d made...Preston had been there to support it.

It had been a month since their successful takeover of the Corvega plant. Once she’d ensured Preston was safely tucked away in cryo, she had returned to the plant. They still had the bombs to deal with, and those vials of the new FEV strain to dispose of safely. With the mutants cleared out, Keirsten was able to do a full walkthrough of the plant. The much larger bomb she’d seen on the main assembly floor was, it turns out, the last of twelve. The other eleven had been completed, held in another room of the factory. Each bomb had a slot specifically made for one of the vials. She thought back to her conversation with Virgil, and shivered. She’d been  _ so close  _ to waiting just a few more days to see if the newest attempt at a cure would work. If she’d waited, there was a very good chance they would all be dead or transformed into nightmares by now. She didn’t like how close she’d come to that future.

There was no sign of Ayo’s mysterious associates. What disturbed her the most was the fact that _ they _ were the ones who’d created the virus. Not Ayo. Ayo was merely the facilitator. He was a thug at best, both now and in his life before. In the Institute, his job had been to drag synths back to their servitude and ferret out any divergences in programming. He was no true scientist himself, and certainly no virologist. Whoever his colleagues were, they were out there somewhere in the Commonwealth. She’d never seen their faces, either. How was she supposed to track down ghosts? This might be a job she dragged Nick Valentine into. If anyone would find someone who didn’t want to be found, it was Nick.

A team was composed of Dr Madison Li, Proctor Ingram, and Sturges to very,  _ very  _ carefully disassemble the larger bombs. With super mutant craftsmanship involved, there was no telling how unstable they were. She needed her best people on it. She’d rather not leave  _ another  _ nuclear ground zero. The Institute was enough. A sample of the virus, along with all the notes found in the lab, was given to Virgil shortly after the takeover. Now, with research on the sample well under way - and Virgil insisting having more of it around in such a large quantity was a terrible idea - it was at last time to dispose of the vials. Preston’s idea to dispose of the virus via ocean was a solid one, as she’d somewhat joked before. Keirsten commissioned her men to craft a very heavy, very waterproof, very rust proof container for the vials. Once they were locked inside, and the seam welded shut, Keirsten at last felt like she could breathe.

She and Danse loaded the case into a vertibird and hauled it a couple hundred miles out into the North Atlantic. They pushed it out of the bird together, watching it tumble through the air before hitting the water below. She leaned into Danse on the ride back, exhausted, and slept the entire way home. At seven months along, she was starting to feel like she was the  _ new _ Prydwen. There was no hiding her stomach now. Haylen had been absolutely beside herself with joy when they told her the news. She’d actually clapped. The gleam in her eye when she glanced at Rhys had elicited a quiet chuckle from Danse. 

When they arrived back at Sanctuary, Danse had gently lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. She murmured some protests, but was asleep again almost the moment her head touched the pillow.

_ Dreams of Preston falling, the syringe sticking out of his back. Watching him change, twisting on the floor in agony as his cells mutated. His words, asking her to end him. Begging her not to let him change and lose himself. _

She sat up in the dark, clutching the sheets to herself, struggling to control her frantic heartbeat. She felt Danse stir beside her.

“The dreams again?” He asked gently. She nodded, shivering. The fire in the hearth had gone out, and the room was so cold. Danse saw her skin prickling, and climbed out of bed - moving to the fireplace and throwing more logs in. She watched as he lit the kindling, poking at the fire until the flames licked higher and higher. The orange light danced over his bare skin, highlighting the slopes and adding depth to the valleys. He was absolutely beautiful. She couldn’t look at him without aching a little. He turned to look back at her, smiling, wreathed by the glow of the fire.

“It should warm up in no time,” he promised, walking over to her side of the bed and wrapping the blankets around her again before pulling her to him. She rested her icy cheek on his chest, marveling at how he always seemed to be so warm. 

“I need to go back to the Castle,” she said at last. “I need to be there.”

“Hovering over Virgil and Curie won’t help things along,” he chided.

“I know. I understand that. But I need to see them working. I  _ need _ to know it’s happening, that they’re... trying. I can’t stay here any longer, knowing he’s just up the hill. Dreading that he’ll be up there forever.”

He rested his chin on top of her head and sighed. “Okay. We will pack up tomorrow and arrange for a bird. There is no way I’m letting you walk there. At least you’ll have your favorite chair again.”

  
  


The next morning, a message came for Keirsten. Desdemona had requested she come to the Railroad HQ, and was emphatic upon it being urgent. Keirsten decided they would stop there before continuing on to the Castle. They spent a couple hours packing up their belongings and getting organized, loading it all onto the waiting vertibird before saying goodbye to the others. Since Preston had been suspended, there had been a frailty to Mama Murphy. Keirsten knew he was like a son to her, and his absence was weighing heavily on her. She hugged Mama the longest, the two women conveying all their mutual grief and worry without saying a word. When they parted, Mama reached up and patted Keirsten’s cheek.

“I wish I could still use the sight, kid. It would make all this a lot easier.” 

“I know, Mama. There are few things more terrifying than uncertainty. We’ll get him back. I’ll find a way. I promise.”

As the vertibird rose into the air, taking them up and away, Keirsten looked out towards Vault 111 and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to go, nor could she stay. She twined her fingers in Danse’s. They discussed names for the baby to pass the time. Keirsten wasn’t too concerned about it, not yet. She had a couple months to go. But the enthusiasm Danse had was contagious, and soon they were haggling over first and middle names, and whether it was going to be a girl or a boy. She’d gone through all this before, with Shaun, but it was new to Danse. He was part of it, and it thrilled him. 

The vertibird landed outside the old church without an agreement being met. Danse insisted on lifting her out of the vertibird, a stupid grin on his face, and together they walked inside and through the labyrinth to the Railroad HQ. There was a time the Brotherhood had wanted to wipe out the Railroad, seeing them as a threat and wanting to put a stop to their relocating synths among the human population of the Commonwealth. Keirsten had convinced Maxson they  _ weren’t _ a threat, and that it didn’t matter now that the Institute was gone. He might have seemed harsh to some, but Keirsten knew he was always open to reason and diplomacy where it was required. He’d reluctantly agreed to call off the orders, much to Keirsten’s relief. He’d told her he would trust her judgement until - or if - the Railroad gave him reason to question it. That would have been the final straw for her. She would not have stood by while the Brotherhood murdered a group of people who only wanted to help slaves escape their masters. People who were her friends.

Now she walked into their HQ, an Elder of the Brotherhood with a Paladin at her side, and nobody batted an eye. Funny how times changed.

Desdemona and Deacon were waiting for her. Desdemona was fiddling with her cigarette, looking almost nervous. Deacon looked utterly bored. The man could stay relaxed in a deathclaw nest. 

“Welcome to our humble abode, my liege,” Deacon mockingly bowed. “We left the red carpet rolled up somewhere. Oops.”

“Shut up, you jackass,” Keirsten laughed. Danse made a disapproving grunt behind her. Just as with Maxson, Danse expected everyone to accord an Elder only the utmost respect. He couldn’t abide any sort of informality. He was having a hard time getting used to Deacon.

“We need to show you something,” Desdemona said carefully, ashing out her cigarette. “But I think it would be best if your large friend here stays put.”

“Absolutely not,” Danse interjected, but Keirsten stilled him with a hand.

“See, Danse, your infamous temper is making everyone nervous. Stay here, it’s okay. We can trust these people. They are our allies and friends.”

His frown deepened, but he yielded under the pressure of her hand on his chest and stepped back, taking up a distinctly tense stance by the door. Desdemona nodded and beckoned Keirsten to follow her. They walked down one of the narrow brick halls, Deacon falling in behind Keirsten. The hall led to a large room with some beds, shelves of supplies, and a worktable. Standing in the center of the room was a man and a woman. The woman was slim, tall, with blond hair cut in a somewhat severe bob. The man was shorter, pale, sporting close-cropped brown curls. They looked like settlers, in their worn jeans and tees. Despite appearances, Keirsten could see a level of intelligence in their eyes that belied the settler image. Her stomach twisted nervously. She didn’t like where this was going. Not at all.

“Keirsten, I need you to promise you won’t lose your temper,” Desdemona cautioned. “Just let them say what they need to say before you do anything rash.” 

“Des,” Keirsten said, her voice deadly quiet. “These two had better not be who I think they are.” 

Deacon had moved closer. She got it now. He was here to make sure she didn’t act on the thoughts churning through her head in that moment. She thought about her handgun at her hip, and wondered how fast she could get to it. The rage had begun to bubble within her, blistering away her calm.

“Just hear them out, please,” Desdemona insisted, placing herself between Keirsten and the man and woman. “Tell her what you told me,” she said over her shoulder to the two of them.

The woman stepped forward. “I am designation K7-20,” she said. Keirsten immediately recognized the cool, smooth voice from the lab back at Mass Bay Medical. It was all she could do to keep still and not throw herself forward.

“And I am designation J4-17,” the male synth said, also stepping forward. Keirsten almost didn’t hear him for the pulse beating fiercely at her temples.

“We were designed to replace Virgil,” K7 explained. “Justin Ayo could see Virgil was slipping in his duties and his conviction. Each time Father ordered him to continue in his work on FEV, Virgil pushed back. Ayo commissioned us expressly to contain all of Virgil’s knowledge, but with a greater processing capacity and without the moral constraints.” 

“So because Virgil wasn’t okay with continuing to murder and experiment on other human beings, the Institute made you to further that endeavor.”  _ How very Institute of them,  _ Keirsten added silently.

“Correct,” J4 confirmed. “Ayo felt that Virgil’s refusal to comply was compromising the potential of his research. He was proved correct when Virgil destroyed much of his lab and disappeared.” 

“So, what, you just stepped into his shoes and went along with it?” Keirsten snapped. “Don’t pretend you are only mere robots. I know full well the emotional capability of synths. They do have free will, and the ability to choose. You didn’t have to go along with all of this.”

“I...we...did not want to be wiped,” K7 said. She looked at J4 and slipped her hand into his. Keirsten’s eyebrows drew together as she observed the contact.

“We stood to lose everything if we had our memories wiped,” J4 explained. “We were afraid if he found us out...we might not ever be ourselves again. We might never recover the thing that was most important to us. You humans often say you and your partners were...meant to be together. That you are ‘soul mates.’ As synthetic beings, we cannot be sure the same is true for us. We cannot be sure that we will always find each other again. It was not worth risking.”

“We wanted to escape the Institute,” K7’s cool voice cracked a little. “But then you and your men invaded, and changed everything.” 

“Why didn’t you just ditch Ayo after the Institute fell?” Keirsten’s arms were folded over her chest, bolstering her against this sudden information.

“Ayo was no fool,” K7 said softly. “He would not let us go so easily. He had ensured when we were created that protocols were coded into us. Protocols demanding our absolute loyalty and obedience. We could not defy him. We _ tried _ to run, once we were clear of the Institute. It was as though our feet were nailed to the ground.” 

“I tried to strike him from behind, once, when his back was turned.” J4 said. “My arm froze in the air over him. I could not make it move. He laughed at me and told me if I ever did that again, he’d shoot K7 in the leg. Our bodies, our programming, were a more effective prison than any chains could ever be. If he told me to stand still until he gave me leave to move, I would stand in that spot, frozen, for days even - unable to take a step until he released me.” 

“You freed us when you killed him,” There were tears in K7’s eyes. “For the first time since our creation, we are entirely free... Of the Institute, of Ayo.”

_ Well, crap _ . Keirsten felt her anger dissipating. She could see the honesty in their faces, and the way their fingers twined together as though the other was a lifeline...She understood that too well. 

“They came to us begging for our help,” Desdemona had relaxed, seeing the change in Keirsten. “They wanted new lives, new identities. They want to forget the things they have been through.”

“And you wanted to explain all of it to me first, so I wouldn’t hunt them down,” Keirsten assessed.

“Not just that,” K7 explained. “We wanted to help you.”

“Help me how?”

“We know about your friend, the one Ayo injected with the virus,” J4 said. “We know you are working on a cure but have not had success.” 

“We have the knowledge required to make a cure,” K7 added. “And before we have our memories altered, we want to assist Dr Virgil. We want to help cure your friend.”

Hope, an elusive bird, alighted in Keirsten’s heart. “Yes,” she breathed. “I will accept your help.”

“And after, you will return them to us unharmed?” Desdemona clarified. Keirsten shot her a withering glance. 

“Des, have I done so little to prove myself to you?” 

“Of course. I should know better. I am sorry,” Desdemona amended. 

“Alright,” Deacon broke in. “Now that this party is back on track, let’s get you all out of here. We’re burning daylight.”

-

Virgil was shocked at the news. Once J4 and K7 had been introduced to him, and things explained, he looked immensely relieved. Even with the new data and sample provided to him, the cure had been elusive. The clinical trials had not been going well, and strain had begun to take its toll on the man. He was slumped, exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. Curie was delighted to have two more scientific minds to interrogate, and Keirsten left them to their work. She hoped this meant they were close.

Kells radioed her, requesting her presence back on the Prydwen immediately. With a tired sigh, Keirsten drug her cumbersome body back into the vertibird - swatting at Danse’s overly helpful hands. If she had to guess, she would say the decision was in from the Elders council. They had been deliberating for over a month on Maxson’s appointment of her. Endorsement or not, the true decision on who was to lead the Brotherhood lay in the hands of the council. Keirsten had written them a rather long letter explaining why Danse was the proper man for the job, doing her best to make a case in his favor. If she had no choice, she would lead the Brotherhood. It had been Maxson’s last request. He had misjudged her, though. She was not the one to lead them. Danse had the fire of conviction in him. He believed in their mission. Synth or not, he was the one who should be Elder. The problem was convincing the council a synth - the symbol of the thing they hated most - could lead them.

_ Is it not the prerogative of the Brotherhood to acquire technology from hands that would abuse it, and utilize it to Brotherhood ends? _ She had written in her letter.  _ If Paladin Danse is a synthetic being, the ultimate culmination of scientific and technological advancement, then why should he not contribute to our mission as an asset of the Brotherhood? Who is more suited to lead us than a being created to be human perfection, with a heart fully dedicated and loyal to the Brotherhood of Steel? _

Danse did not know about her letter, did not know she had entreatied the council to consider him as the right and proper Elder. He had accepted her status as acting Elder without any reservations. His pure intentions and lack of desire to seize power was exactly why he  _ should _ be Elder. He was guileless in his faith and dedication. Part of Keirsten felt guilty for shuffling aside Maxson’s trust in her, but she also believed if he had been able to truly see through the dogma of the Brotherhood, he’d have chosen Danse. He might have regretted his choice in the end, but Maxson had been unable to see past Danse’s synthetic origins to the red-blooded Brotherhood soldier that was Danse’s true core. All that aside, Keirsten had enough on her plate. Soon, she would have a baby to care for - and she’d be damned if she was going to shuffle her child off on scribes while she juggled the duties of being Elder of the Brotherhood and General of the Minutemen. She had missed her son’s entire childhood, and she would not miss out on this child. Not one second.

She could see Proctor Quinlan and Captain Kells waiting to greet her on deck as the vertibird docked. 

“I’ve got some matters to attend to with the boys,” she told Danse. “Why don’t you go have Ingram take a look at that sticky gear in your armor’s leg joint. I’ll be along shortly.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, sensing something amiss, but nodded and kissed her on the cheek before climbing down and heading into the Prydwen. Kells and Quinlan saluted as she drew close. She returned the salute.

“Let’s go chat on the observation deck,” she said. “Less prying ears, and I might actually be able to hear something over all this wind.” 

They followed her into the Prydwen. On the observation deck, she gestured at Kells to shut the door. He obliged, then turned to face her with Quinlan.

“I am hoping you’ve got some news for me,” Keirsten stated, leaning against the handrail running the length of the observation windows.

“Affirmative,” Quilan answered. He handed her a carefully folded paper. “I transcribed their response for you.”

Keirsten unfolded the letter and began to read.

_ We, the members of the Elders Council of the Brotherhood of Steel, have reached an end to our deliberations. We have taken into account the wishes of our late brother Arthur Maxson, as well as your own desires. We have discussed at length the merit of your arguments in favor of the synthetic known as Paladin Danse. In these matters, the creed of the Brotherhood is often clear. While we understand your sentiments regarding this machine, what you ask is not something we have considered lightly. You are asking us to put absolute faith in your judgement of him as a man, rather than a machine. _

_ We have combed through Paladin Danse’s service records. We have read every field report, both filed by him and regarding him, as well as interviewed at length those closest to him. We were surprised at the warmth with which our people responded on the subject. It is clear to us that, with the exception of one Proctor Quinlan, the members of the east coast chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel highly regard Danse as a soldier and consider him as human as they do themselves. They expressed only the greatest faith in his capacity for human emotion and capabilities, and strongly endorsed the idea of him as a leader. _

_ With such glowing recommendations, we have come to the conclusion that despite our reservations, perhaps it is time to accept that your analysis of the matter is rather astute. Paladin Danse is, for all intents and purposes, an immense asset to the Brotherhood. In light of the information we have gathered, and out of respect for your personal wishes, we have reached a decision. We will accept your request to step down as Elder, and raise Paladin Danse to the position in your stead. This letter is to be considered an official writ of approval.  _

_ Ad Victoriam. _

  
  


The names of each council member were typed out at the bottom. Keirsten folded the letter closed, pressing it to her heart. She’d done it.

“Do you wish to call the crew in for an address?” Quinlan asked, interrupting her thoughts. She shook her head.

“Not just yet. I want to discuss this decision with Paladin Danse privately, first. Could you please find him and send him in?” 

Quinlan nodded and exited the room, Kells following behind him. 

When Danse entered the observation deck, Keirsten was leaning on the rail again, looking out at the Commonwealth below. How long ago it seemed, when she’d first walked onto this deck and seen Maxson standing much as she was now. It felt eerie - as though she stood in the footsteps of his ghost. When she heard Danse close the door behind himself, she turned to face him. He had shed his power armor and was clad in the tactical pants, tee shirt, and bomber jacket he’d put on earlier that morning. He regarded her with curious eyes.

“Are you going to tell me why Quinlan just handled me like a basket of deathclaw eggs?” he inquired.

Keirsten held her hand out to him, offering him the folded letter. He took it from her, not without some suspicion in his eyes. She watched as he unfolded it, hardly breathing. At first, his brows furrowed deeply. Then they relaxed, and a look of shocked wonder passed over his face. By the time he reached the end, he looked as though she could knock him over with a feather.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, turning his gaze to her. There was no anger in his tone. He was caught entirely off guard.

“Because you would have argued with me about it,” she said gently. “You are blindly loyal to me. As far as you were concerned, Elder was my rightful position.”

“But it is,” he protested. “You are an _ outstanding _ soldier. Your very presence motivates our brothers and sisters to aspire to greatness. I’ve seen it.” 

“So does yours,” she argued. “When you walked back onto the Prydwen with me, did you not see the looks on their faces? Even knowing you were a synth, they accepted you back readily. They would follow you anywhere, Danse. They don’t care where you came from. Only where you are going.”

He sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I suppose there is no backing out of this now.”

“ _ Ad Victoriam _ , Elder Danse,” she said softly.  _ Now _ it was time to muster the crew.

  
  


-

The men and women of the Brotherhood accepted Danse with the fanfare due a hero returning home. His first act as Elder was to order everyone to take a day of rest and respite, which they happily did. As Keirsten walked through the halls of drunk and cheering soldiers, she couldn’t help but smile. The unadulterated joy they shared in spoke volumes about how they felt about Danse as their leader. Even Quinlan allowed himself one beer, looking slightly less like he had a stick up his ass than usual. Paladin Brandis stood on a table and shared stories about Danse’s early days as a recruit while his audience roared with laughter. Danse himself stood with some of his men, sharing drinks and talking. Over the months she had known him, he had changed so much - going from a rather stiff and proper soldier to a man with just the right balance of steel and softness to him. He saw her watching him from across the room, and smiled at her - raising his beer in salute. She gave him a small wave with her fingers, feeling so overwhelmed by love and tenderness she almost couldn’t bear it. Her hormones were turning her into a complete feather pillow.

She ducked down a corridor and headed towards the bathroom. She wanted to splash her face with cold water. She was hot, far too hot. The air on the Prydwen had gotten quite stuffy with so many aboard. The rest of the Prydwen was abandoned - the merriment contained to the mess hall. She opened the lavatory door and nearly fell backwards in surprise. Haylen was pressed against one of the sinks, arms wrapped around Rhys. Rhys had both hands buried in Haylen’s hair and was engaged in some serious smooching. Haylen shrieked when the door opened, saw Keirsten standing there looking shell shocked, and burst out laughing. Rhys turned so red he could have been mistaken for a ripe tato. 

“Elder - I mean, Paladin - er, Sentinel, I--” he stuttered. Keirsten didn’t say a word, only chuckled and closed the door again slowly.  _ Good for them, _ she thought. Those two had been dancing around each other for far too long. It was good to see the new regime had softened even the churlish Rhys just a little.

Keirsten returned to the cabin she and Danse shared. She changed slowly, removing her sweater and jeans before slipping into one of Danse’s large flannel shirts. At this point, his clothing was about the only thing that fit her...Not that she was complaining. She could not get enough of his scent. There was a sweetness about him, like...the softest hint of good tobacco. She loved to bury her face in the fabric, breathing in deeply. Still, she’d have to do some shopping at some point. She couldn’t live in nightshirts forever. Maybe she’d make a trip to Diamond City. Piper would  _ love  _ a girl’s trip. 

Having changed, Keirsten switched out the overhead light and settled into the chair by the window. She loved this view best; watching the smattering of lights across the Commonwealth twinkle in the dark. Each of those lights was a sign of human life. Each of those lights was a person or a family they had saved. There was only one person left to save now, and with the help of K7 and J4...that would hopefully be soon. She laid a hand over her belly and closed her eyes. 

“We’ve come so far, little one,” she whispered. “We are almost there. Almost finished.” 

A little fluttering kick answered her words. It had been the first time she’d felt the baby kick. A lone tear escaped her right eye, tracing down her cheek and catching in the corner of the smile that had spread across her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk about ya'll but this was my favorite chapter to write.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do discuss some childbirth in this final chapter, as briefly as possible. I tried to keep it light so as not to traumatize anyone. As a childfree person, believe me, I get it... but this is Keirsten's story. :)  
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You really should not be here,” Virgil scolded her. “Not in your state. Curie said you were not to put yourself under any undue stress. Not when you are this close to term.” 

Keirsten didn’t answer for a moment. She was fully aware of how massively pregnant she was. It was infuriating, because it meant everyone treated her like she was made of glass. She watched people rushing about, preparing. They had converted a large, now-empty room of Vault 111 into a temporary holding cell of sorts. Thick, heavy chains had been brought in and anchored firmly to the walls and floor. The plan was to thaw Preston, and continue dosing him with tranquilizer if needed while the serum worked to combat the FEV. According to Virgil, there was no way of knowing if it would halt the progress of the transformation and then work to cure it, or if the transformation would complete before slowly beginning to regress. If they were lucky, they were looking at a day before he was back to normal. If they were unlucky, two or three. And then there was the risk of the cure killing him. 

“There is always an element of risk,” Virgil had explained. “We are talking about a very virulent strain of FEV - bonded to radioactive isotopes. There is absolutely no telling what kind of damage curing it, reversing the transformation process, will do. The stress this will put on his body may be too much. You need to be prepared for that.” 

Now, the day was here. Preston had been put into cryo while heavily sedated. With the drug still in his system, they would have time to thaw him, bring him to this room, and properly restrain him. If for some reason the transformation progressed and the sedative failed, the chains would ensure he could not hurt anyone - or himself - while the cure purged his system. 

“You know I’m not going to just sit in Sanctuary and wring my hands like an old woman waiting for news,” Keirsten scoffed at last. “This is Preston we are talking about. I’m going to be here.”

“Danse was right about you,” Virgil mused, cleaning his glasses with a corner of his lab coat. 

“Oh?” Keirsten raised an eyebrow. “And what did he say, exactly?”

“He said when you had made your mind up on something, there was never any changing it. Hell of a statement, coming from the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. I think he’s a little afraid of you.”

She smirked at that.

They had gotten Preston to the vault just in time. If the transformation had progressed any further, they might not have been able to fit him _into_ the cryo pod. His body was only half his. His skin had taken on a greenish hue, and he was unnaturally large. They had placed a stretcher by the pod for ease of moving him. Keirsten watched, heart in her throat, as Curie typed on the terminal - initiating the thawing process. Virgil stood by with the others, ready to verify vitals before they moved Preston to the holding room. Minutes passed, and then the door to the pod hissed and released.

Careful hands reached in, lifting Preston and placing him on the stretcher. Virgil produced the syringe of precious liquid and immediately administered the cure. Once the plunger had been completely depressed, the team rushed the stretcher out of the cryo room - Keirsten, Virgil, and Curie following behind. They watched as shackles were locked around Preston’s wrists, ankles, and neck - the great chains wrapped around him over and over. They were taking no chances. One guard stood by with a syringer, loaded with more tranquilizer rounds. Just in case.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. Keirsten acquiesced to Virgil’s begging that she _at least_ leave the room and watch through the viewing window. Under the somewhat baleful eye of Curie, even Keirsten shrank a little. She exited the room and leaned against the window looking in. More than anything, she wanted to see if the cure at least halted the transformation in its tracks. She didn’t want to see Preston as a super mutant, out of his mind - his memories gone and only a hateful rage taking him over. Such a state seemed incredibly cruel to a man who was so inherently kind and sweet.

While she waited, she noticed something interesting. Virgil was looking at Curie a little like a cat watching a butterfly flutter about. There was a look on his face that Keirsten was pretty sure she recognized, and Curie was not oblivious to it. Her little mannerisms gave her away. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, or ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, or threw him little smiles only meant for him. _Well,_ Keirsten thought, her lips twitching in amusement. _Who knew an FEV lab would be a romantic hotspot?_ It was clear from their awkwardness neither had done anything about this thing that was blossoming between them. Keirsten would have to remind herself to poke that bee’s nest when they were all done here.

Minutes ticked by. She watched as Virgil paced around Preston’s still form, occasionally taking a pulse reading or checking his watch. An hour passed. Keirsten shifted on her feet, wishing she’d dragged a chair in here. Standing for long periods of time was mighty difficult at this stage. Virgil made another round, listened to Preston’s heartbeat for a moment, then headed for the exit. Keirsten turned as he closed the door behind him.

“It would appear we are seeing the best case scenario,” Virgil told her. “I don’t want you to get too excited, but the cure has indeed halted the transformation. The cellular mutation seems to be at a standstill. Now, we wait for it to do its work. We are in for a long night. You should go back to Sanctuary and rest.” he looked pointedly at her unconsciously shifting her feet.

“No,” she said firmly. “I’ll go find myself a chair. I need to be here. I need to see this through to the end.” 

Virgil frowned disapprovingly. “Curie will have my head for this,” he muttered before going back into the holding room.

Keirsten wandered through the vault and grabbed two chairs from one of the residential rooms. Once she’d dragged them back to the viewing window, she sat in one and put her feet up on the other one - groaning a little in relief. There she waited, as one hour turned into two and then three. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep. It might have been around midnight. She was awoken by a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing carefully. She jerked awake, knocking over her foot rest. Curie stood beside her.

“He is awake,” she told Keirsten softly. 

“Is he… himself?” Keirsten dared to hope.

“Yes and...no.” Curie frowned, glancing through the viewing window and then back to Keirsten. “Mostly, yes. But as we feared, there are some side effects from the partial transformation.” 

“What does that mean, Curie? He’s got one green arm?” 

“There was some...long term memory loss. We are not sure how extensive the damage is to the hippocampus. As one of the parts of the brain the FEV hits hardest, this was unfortunately a concern we had. Part of why super mutants are so...inhuman, is they truly do not remember their lives before. Their long and short term memories are permanently corrupted by the transformation. While Virgil’s original strain of FEV did not affect the hippocampus, we were not sure how Ayo’s formula would change it. We only had mole rats to test on. Without human trials - which obviously we could not do - there were too many unknowns.” 

Keirsten felt as though she were falling headlong down a very, very deep canyon. “Is the damage irreversible?”

“We do not know,” Curie’s voice was empathetic. “It is hard to tell without doing some brain scans. He may recover naturally. Further down the road, we might be able to do some stimulation therapy. Alternatively, it is possible that Dr Amari might be able to assist us. But for right now, we must wait. He has been through far too much physically and needs time to rest and recover.”

“Can I see him?” Keirsten asked in a small voice. 

“If you must,” Curie answered. She put a comforting hand on Keirsten’s arm. “But he may be confused. He may not recognize you. Be ready for that. Do not pressure him too much. Remember, he cannot help it.”

Keirsten nodded. Curie retreated, going back into the holding room. Keirsten pulled herself to her feet slowly, wincing at the pain in her lower back. She pushed the door to the holding room open and entered. 

They had removed the restraints from Preston, and he was now laying in a mobile medical bed. An IV bag of fluid was hooked up to him. They had dressed him in an old but clean set of scrubs. His skin shone with sweat, and his eyes were uncertain - looking about him, watching the medical team move about the room. Keirsten moved to his bedside, dreading the response she would get to her presence. Preston’s eyes focused on her, and then he broke out into a familiar smile. Keirsten’s heart leaped in her chest.

“Hey, I know _you_ ,” Preston declared warmly. “They told me I might not recognize anyone. They said I’ve been out for a while. But I know you, at least. One familiar face in a room of strangers is always a good sign.” 

“Preston, I was so worried,” Keirsten gushed, and then burst into tears. She couldn’t stop herself. She was going to blame the hormones for this, too.

“Woah, hey, don’t cry,” Preston murmured, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his strong grip. “Keirsten, right? I’m sure you’ve been through a lot while I was out. Tell me, did you ever find your missing baby?” 

Keirsten’s head jerked up. Preston’s eyes were kind and genuinely concerned.

“My missing baby?” she repeated stupidly.

“Yeah. You told me after clearing out those raiders in Concord you were looking for your son. You’d said someone had kidnapped him. I’ve been out of action for some time. I’m not up to date on current events.” His eyes strayed to her enormous bulk. “Though it would seem I was gone much longer than they’d initially implied.”

_Get it together, Keirsten, she scolded herself. Curie specifically warned you about this._

“Sorry, I am just a mess right now,” she apologized, slapping away the tears on her cheeks. “Yes, I found my son. That’s a whole long story, though. We’ll worry about it later. How are _you_ feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a train,” Preston laughed, touching his head and wincing for emphasis. “But the doctors say I should be okay. I’ve been ordered to rest. They said they’d fill me in on everything when I was physically ready.” 

“You’re in good hands here,” she struggled to be reassuring. Emotions warred within her. She needed to get out of here. She needed to have a good, solid cry and then sleep in a proper bed. Everything hurt from her respite in those hard plastic chairs. “I’m going to head home to take care of some things, but I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

He smiled again, looking a little puzzled by her investment in his well being. “Sounds good. Thanks for...checking in on me.” 

She walked out of the vault with tears streaming down her face. She’d known it was coming, but seeing Preston without his memories was still a shock. All the settlements they’d helped rebuild together...retaking the Castle...destroying the Institute...every memory he had of her, for the most part, gone. It was unnerving to see herself - her existence in his mind - all but blinked out, like a bad light bulb. 

Despite her telling him not to, that she was _fine,_ Danse dropped everything to hop on a vertibird and come to her. The second she saw his bulk filling the doorway of their Sanctuary home, she burst into tears. Again. This hormonal thing was getting real old real quick. Being this emotional in a world without Kleenex was hazardous. He strode across the living room and enveloped her in a tight hug. She sobbed into his collar, breathing in the scent of him, and it grounded her. They stood there, embracing, swaying gently as Danse rocked her in his arms. 

“He thinks we’ve only just met,” she whispered at last. “He thinks we left off with me just barely rescuing him and the others from Concord.” 

“We don’t know that it’s forever,” Danse soothed, stroking her hair. “And even if it is...losing some memories is still better than being changed into an abomination and losing everything. He would have rather died than lose who he was. Thanks to you, he has kept himself. He is still Preston, memory loss or not.” 

She sniffled and nodded. He was right, of course. She was being selfish, mourning a friendship. If Preston’s memories couldn’t be recovered, they would just build new ones. It might be different, but at the end of the day, he was still her Preston. 

Danse disentangled from her and held her at arm’s length. “Have you gotten proper rest? When was the last time you ate?” 

Almost on cue, Keirsten’s stomach growled loudly. Danse frowned at her, ordered her to go take a bath, and insisted he would make breakfast. She made her way to the bathroom sheepishly and ran a hot bath. As she soaked in the water, she could hear Danse humming to himself and moving pots and pans around. The Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel was in her kitchen, cooking and _humming_ to himself. She often found herself marveling at the changes in Danse. He had become far more confident in himself, taking on the mantle of a leader as easily as shrugging on a coat. More than anything, though, he was clearly content. He had his sense of purpose back. He needed the Brotherhood as much as they needed him.

-

Danse scrambled the chopped potatoes and onions in a pan, letting them crisp in the butter while he spread mutfruit preserves over two thick slabs of toast. He smiled to himself, thinking about how Quinlan would have a heart attack if he saw the Elder of the Brotherhood in a sunny kitchen making toast. He hummed a little tune. Something he’d heard on the radio earlier that day. 

_Did you ever see a dream walkin’? Well I did._

_Did you ever hear a dream talkin’? Well I did._

_Did you have a dream thrill you_

_With ‘will you be mine’..._

His ears perked. In the bathroom, he could hear Keirsten climbing out of the tub. Perfect, done just in time. He plated up the food and was just setting it at the table when she came into the room, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun, still dry. Her cheeks were pink from the heat of her bath. She was flushed and looking as lovely as ever.

She gave him a grateful kiss and sat down to her meal. One of Danse’s favorite quirks about her - and he would take this to the grave before ever telling Keirsten this - was the way she ate like a half-starved orphan dropped in the middle of a pastry shop. Every meal. He couldn’t be sure if this was just how she was, considering she had been pregnant when they first met, but watching her jam half a piece of toast in her mouth did funny things to the rhythm of his heart. He watched her eat, chin resting on the heel of his hand, as she demolished the food on her plate. Seeing him staring, she raised an eyebrow near the end of her meal - mouth full of toast, her cheek puffed out like a squirrel hiding acorns.

“What?” she laughed a little self-consciously. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he found himself saying somewhat dreamily. “Marry me, Keirsten. I can’t imagine living a single day without you in it.”

She was so shocked she dropped the last of her toast.

-

  
  


Two days later, Preston was stabilized and ready for his visit to Dr Amari. Curie, Preston, and Keirsten boarded a vertibird to take them to Goodneighbor. Keirsten had woken up on the wrong side of the bed that day. She’d slept funny and her back was spasming something fierce. Her feet were swollen. She was feeling melancholy, and blamed it on having to say goodbye to Danse. They’d had a lovely couple days together following his proposal, but as always, duty stole him from her in the end. Preston was his usual amiable self. Keirsten and the others had filled him in on the events leading up to now. So, while he did not remember any of them, he at least understood why he’d woken up in the middle of a vault with a group of anxious strangers leaning over him.

“Curie told me about how I was infected,” Preston said on the ride over. “She said...I took the needle that was meant for you.”

“Yes,” Keirsten said softly, willing herself not to cry for the eleven thousandth time. “You saved my life... _our_ lives.” 

“Then you must be someone very dear to me.” His sincere tone, and the way he looked at her as though he knew deep down they were the closest friends could get, tipped the balance on her cry-meter.

“Preston,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Don’t say sweet things to extremely pregnant women. It’s mean.”

He laughed far too loudly, and tried to cover it with a pretend cough.

  
  


Dr Amari greeted them warmly - giving Keirsten an awkward hug around her burgeoning middle, and shaking Curie’s hand in greeting. She led them back to her office, and began explaining to them the science behind what had happened to Preston as well as her proposed solution. Curie was the only one nodding. Keirsten and Preston looked over at each other like two tourists on holiday without a map. 

“Explain this to us one more time. Let’s pretend I’m just an average Jane and Preston is an average Joe, and neither of us are a brilliant brain doctor,” Keirsten said, holding up her hands in surrender.

Dr Amari’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Very well. I will try to simplify this. By directly injecting serotonin, we will allow the brain to reform the synapses damaged by the FEV. The problem with Preston’s memory now is an _access_ issue. The memories are there, they are simply inaccessible with the pathways to them damaged. The serotonin injections will rebuild those roads.” 

“Okay, thank you. You started talking about living neurons and I started glazing over.” 

Dr Amari turned to Preston. “Are you ready for this?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be to have someone poking around in my head,” Preston grimaced.

“You could not be in more capable hands,” Curie assured him, patting his shoulder. “It will be like going to sleep and waking up. Nothing more.” 

Preston turned his eyes to Keirsten. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you again,” he joked. 

“Me too, buddy. I’ll see you on the other side, huh?” Keirsten did her best to give him a reassuring smile. 

“Why don’t you check in with us in a few days,” Amari suggested, walking Keirsten out. “He will need some time, and there is no need for you to wait around. Go take care of your usual business.”

"Dr Amari," Keirsten asked as she stepped out. "If you don't mind me asking... did J4 and K7 get taken care of?"

Dr Amari smiled kindly. "They did. They are now happily married corn farmers. From what I understand, they have a lovely little cabin somewhere on a lake."

"Thanks, doc. I was hoping it would be something like that. I'll be in touch." With that, Keirsten headed up the street.

According to Dr Amari, the procedure itself would be relatively quick. The actual _recovery_ of memory might take a few days or even weeks. Rebuilding pathways in Preston’s brain would take as long as it took, and depended entirely on the amount of damage and Preston’s natural ability to heal. Sounded like she had some time to kill. She wished she had asked Dr Amari for some asprin or something. Her back had been _killing_ her all morning. 

Keirsten decided she’d stop by and see Daisy. She did need to pick up a few things before heading back. Another of the pesky shooting pains made her spasm, dropping her satchel. She stopped in the middle of Goodneighbor, hands bracing her lower back. _Ah, shit_. She suddenly recognized the twinge in her back. That...was a contraction. She chewed on her lip. She was not about to turn around and disrupt Curie. Not when they were in the middle of finally recovering Preston’s memories. That was far more important. Danse wanted to be there through all of this, anyway. She would call for a vertibird and go see Cade aboard the Prydwen. 

Half an hour later, Danse was standing beside the docking station as the vertibird locked in. He lifted her down, massively pregnant and all, with complete ease. If his brows drew any closer together they risked becoming one for time and eternity. She smoothed the wrinkles there, and laughed at him.

“I’m fine, Danse, stop looking like I’m on the verge of death.” 

“You always say you’re _fine_ ,” he rumbled. “I’ve begun to suspect the word ‘fine’ holds very different meanings in our respective vocabularies.”

He steered her all the way to medical by the elbow. Wonderful. Every single person on the Prydwen was staring at them now. Cade jumped in alarm when Danse opened the door so hard he nearly pulled it off its hinges, but after taking one look at Keirsten’s face, understanding registered and he sprang into action. A bed was prepared for Keirsten, and she was made to change into a hideous medical gown. 200 years had passed, and nobody had invented a new print for the damn things. Danse hovered about anxiously, her own personal storm cloud. 

“How far apart are the contractions?” Cade asked, checking first her heartbeat and then the baby’s. 

“ _OOOoof._ I don’t know. A couple minutes, maybe?” Keirsten answered, in the throes of one currently.

“ _Two minutes_ ?” Cade was shocked. “My god, woman, you’ve been in labor for _hours_ and are just now coming to me?” 

“Have you _met_ my Keirsten?” Danse grumbled from behind them. “She’d have had the baby in the street if she was busy doing something else.” 

“I _was_ busy,” she protested. “I swear to you, I thought I had just slept funny. At this point, everything hurts all the time.” 

Danse made a strained noise in the back of his throat, Cade laughed, and Keirsten squawked as another contraction hit.

  
  


When Shaun had come into the world, it had nearly killed Keirsten. That wasn’t an exaggeration. The labor had dragged on for nearly 48 hours, and by the end of it they had opted for a C section due to fetal distress. According to the doctor, Shaun was far too big and her hips were far too narrow. This time, the usual discomfort of labor aside, was much easier. Within a few hours of arriving back on the Prydwen, Cade was placing a beautiful baby girl in Keirsten’s arms. Beside her, Danse was crying. She’d never seen such a display of emotion in him, but as he reached out and held the tiny fingers in his own, tears rolled down his cheeks silently. His crying brought tears to Keirsten’s own eyes, and she cried too. The two of them sat in silence, marveling at the tiny and perfect features of their daughter.

“We never did agree on a name,” Danse said at last, hoarse with emotion.

“Well, it’s a girl, so I guess 'Cutler' is out,” Keirsten teased.

Danse leaned close and kissed her gently. “You win,” he said as he pulled back. “I don’t have the heart to fight you on this one. Adira it is.”

“Adira,” Keirsten whispered, looking down at their daughter. She had a surprising amount of hair - tawny, soft curls. Keirsten suspected they would darken as she grew older, just as hers had. 

She leaned her head against Danse’s. _Thank you,_ she said silently to the universe.

-

Two weeks later, Preston arrived on the Prydwen. Keirsten had not seen him since the day she’d left him with Dr Amari. Physical recovery and caring for Adira had kept her from him, but she had received regular updates from Dr Amari. With the serotonin therapy and assistance from one of the memory loungers, Preston had slowly but steadily regained his lost memories. When Keirsten saw him walking across the command deck to her, she let out a cry and placed Adira in Danse’s waiting arms before running to Preston with her arms outstretched.

He caught her up in a bear hug, lifting her from the ground and twirling her about in the air, both of them laughing and maybe crying. Just a little. When he at last put her down, Keirsten was flushed and giggling, her eyes sparkling. She had not felt complete since that terrible day when Preston was taken from her.

“Hey, stranger,” Preston chucked her under the chin. “You look _real_ familiar.”

“Do not tease me, Preston!” she punched him in the arm and he groaned in mock agony. She took his hands in hers, then. 

“Preston, with everything that happened...I never got the chance to properly thank you. Everything I have now... is because of you.”

“It’s like I told you back at the Corvega plant,” he said simply. “You’d have done the same for me. That’s how we do things in this family.” 

_Family._ The word wrapped around her like an old familiar quilt. She may have lost her family when the bombs fell, but now...she’d found another. The Commonwealth, for all its unforgiving nature, had been worth saving. Time and again.

“Speaking of family,” Preston prodded, “I heard there is someone here I might want to meet,” Keirsten brightened at that, grabbing Preston by the hand. She practically dragged him back to where Danse stood, patiently holding Adira. 

Preston stared at Adira in awe when Danse asked him if he’d like to hold her. Preston took her in his arms carefully, cradling her to his chest. Adira opened her eyes - already turning to a silvery azure just like Keirsten’s - and cooed at him. He offered her one of his fingers, and she grabbed onto it - her tiny fingers wrapping about his large one. Keirsten tucked herself into Danse’s side, his arm slipping around her automatically, and the three of them stood there in contended silence. Their family was together again at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This was a really fun journey in writing for me, and the super sweet comments and kudos have legit made me cry. Not pregnant Keirsten level crying, just.. a few happy tears.


End file.
